THE 

NAME  OF 

LI  B  ERTY 


m 


JOHNSON 


) 

I 


IN   THE    NAME    OF    LIBERTY 


OF  CALIF.  LIBRABY,  LOS  ANGELES 


BARABANT  SURPRISES   NICOLE 


IN   THE   NAME 
OF  LIBERTY 

A  STORY   OF   THE   TERROR 


BY 


OWEN   JOHNSON 

Author  of  "  Arrows  of  the  Almighty  " 


O  Liberty!  Liberty!  how  many  crimes  are  committed 
in  thy  name !  Madame  Roland 


NEW   YORK 
THE  CENTURY   CO. 

1905 


Copyright,  1905,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 


Published  January , 


THE  DEVINNE  PRESS 


TO 

MY   FATHER 


213GG42 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

i  IN  SEARCH  OF  THE  REVOLUTION       ...  3 

ii  A  RESCUE  FROM  ARISTOCRATS    .     .     .     .  14 

in  CITOYENNE  NICOLE 30 

iv  BREWINGS  OF  THE  STORM 54 

v  THE  TAKING  OF  THE  TUILERIES     ...  74 

vi  THE  HEART  OF  A  WOMAN 92 

vii  THE  FEAR  OF  HAPPINESS 104 

vin  THE  MOTHER  OF  LOUISON 116 

ix  THE  TURN  OF  JAVOGUES 127 

x  A  TRIUMPH  OF  INSTINCT 140 

xi  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  LANTERN     .     .     .  155 

XH  THE  MASSACRE  OF  THE  PRISONS     .     .     .165 

XIII  DOSSONVILLE  IN  PERIL 176 

xiv  GOURSAC  AS  ACCUSER 188 

xv  LOVE,  LIFE,  AND  DEATH 200 

PART  II 

(One  Year  Later) 

i     FAMINE 211 

ii     DOSSONVILLE  EARNS  A  Kiss 224 

vii 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PACK 

in     WAITING  FOR  BREAD 235 

iv     SIMON  LAJOIE 250 

v  CRAMOISIN  PLOTS  AGAINST  NICOLE     .     .  266 

vi     BARABANT  HESITATES 277 

vii  THE  MADNESS  OF  JEALOUSY       ....  290 

vin     LA  F£TE  DE  LA  RAISON 301 

ix  As  DID  CHARLOTTE  CORDAY     .     .     .     .314 

x     UNRELENTING  IN  DEATH 323 

xi  NICOLE  FORGOES  THE  SACRIFICE     .     .     .332 

xn  THE  FATHER  OF  LOUISON     .     .     .    l.     .  346 

xni  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  GUILLOTINE     .     .     .357 

xiv     THE  LAST  ON  THE  LIST 369 

xv  THE  FALL  OF  THE  TERROR       .     .     .     .386 

EPILOGUE 402 


vin 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 


IN  THE  NAME  OF 
LIBERTY 


IN    SEARCH    OF    THE    REVOLUTION 

IN  the  month  of  August  of  the  year  1792 
the  Rue  Maugout  was  a  distorted  cleft  in 
the  gray  mass  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine, 
apart  from  the  ceaseless  cry  of  life  of  the  thor- 
oughfare, but  animated  by  a  sprinkling  of 
shops  and  taverns.  No.  38,  like  its  neighbors, 
was  a  twisted,  settled  mass  of  stone  and  timber 
that  had  somehow  held  together  from  the  time 
of  Henry  II.  The  entrance  was  low,  pinched, 
and  dank.  On  one  side  a  twisted  staircase  zig- 
zagged into  the  gloom.  On  the  other  a  squat 
door  with  a  grating  in  the  center,  like  a  blind 
eye,  led  into  the  cellar  which  la  Mere  Corniche, 
the  concierge,  let  out  at  two  sous  a  night  to  trav- 

3 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

elers  in  search  of  an  economical  resting-place. 
Beyond  this  rat-hole  a  murky  glass  served  as  a 
peep-hole,  whence  her  flattened  nose  and  little 
eyes  could  dimly  be  distinguished  at  all  hours  of 
the  day.  This  tenebrous  entrance,  after  plung- 
ing onward  some  forty  feet,  fell  against  a  wall  of 
gray  light,  where  the  visitor,  making  an  abrupt 
angle,  passed  into  the  purer  air  of  a  narrow  court. 
Opposite,  the  passage  took  up  its  interrupted 
way  to  a  farther  court,  more  spacious,  where  a 
dirt-colored  maple  offered  a  ragged  shelter  and  a 
few  parched  vines  gripped  the  yellow  walls. 
The  tiled  roofs  were  shrunk,  the  ridges  warped, 
the  walls  cracking  and  bulging  about  the  dis- 
torted windows.  Along  the  roofs  the  dust  and 
dirt  had  gradually  accumulated  and  given  birth 
to  a  few  blades  of  gray-green  plants.  Nature 
had  slipped  in  and  assimilated  the  work  of  man, 
until  the  building,  yielding  to  the  weight  of 
time  and  the  elements,  appeared  as  a  hollow 
sunk  in  fantastic  cliffs,  where,  from  narrow,  mis- 
shapen slits,  the  dwellers  peered  forth.  About 
the  maple  swarmed  a  troop  of  children,  grimy, 
bare,  and  voluble.  In  the  branches  and  in  the 
ivy  a  horde  of  sparrows  shrilled  and  fought, 
keeping  warily  out  of  reach  of  the  lank  cats 
that  slunk  in  ambush. 

In  front  of  No.  38,  each  morning,  prompt  as 
4 


IN   SEARCH   OF  THE   REVOLUTION 

the  sun,  which  she  often  anticipated,  la  Mere 
Corniche  appeared  with  her  broom.  She  was 
one  of  those  strange  old  women  in  whom  the 
appearances  of  youth  and  age  are  incongruously 
blended.  Seen  from  behind,  her  short,  erect 
stature  (she  was  an  equal  four  feet),  her  skirt 
stopping  half-way  below  the  knees  to  reveal  a 
pair  of  man's  boots,  gave  the  effect  of  a  child  of 
twelve.  When  she  turned,  the  shock  of  the 
empty  gums,  the  skin  hanging  in  pockets  on 
the  cheeks,  the  eyes  showing  from  their  pouches 
like  cold  lanterns,  caused  her  to  seem  like  a 
being  who  had  never  known  youth. 

She  had  thrown  open  the  doors  on  this  August 
morning  and  was  conducting  a  resolute  campaign 
with  her  broom  when  she  perceived  a  young  man, 
who  even  at  that  early  hour,  from  the  evidence 
of  dust,  had  just  completed  an  arduous  journey. 
A  bulging  handkerchief  swinging  from  a  staff 
across  his  shoulder  evidently  contained  all  his 
baggage,  and  proclaimed  the  definite  purpose  of 
the  immigrant.  The  concierge  regarded  him 
with  some  curiosity.  He  was  too  old  to  be  a 
truant  scholar,  and  too  much  at  ease  to  be  of  the 
far  provinces.  Besides,  his  dress  showed  fa- 
miliarity with  the  city  modes.  He  seemed 
rather  the  young  adventurer  running  to  Paris 
in  the  first  flush  of  that  enthusiasm  and  at- 

5 


IN   THE   NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

traction  which  the  Revolution  in  its  influx  had 
awakened. 

The  dress  itself  proclaimed,  not  without  a 
touch  of  humor,  the  preparation  of  the  zealous 
devotee  approaching  the  Mecca  of  his  ambi- 
tions. His  cocked  hat,  of  a  largeness  which 
suggested  another  owner,  was  new  and  worn 
jauntily,  with  the  gay  assurance  of  youth  in  its 
destiny.  A  brilliant  red  neck-cloth  was  arranged 
with  the  abandon  of  pardonable  vanity.  A  clear 
blue  redingote,  a  cloth-of-gold  vest,  and  a  pair  of 
drab  knickerbockers  completed  a  costume  that 
had  drawn  many  a  smile.  For  while  the  coat 
was  so  long  that  the  sleeves  hid  the  wrist,  the 
vest  was  bursting  its  buttons,  and  though  the 
knickerbockers  pinched,  the  hat  continued  to 
wabble  in  dumb  accusation ;  so  that  two  gener- 
ations at  least  must  have  contributed  to  the 
wardrobe  of  the  young  bucaneer. 

At  the  moment  the  concierge  discovered  the 
youthful  adventurer,  he  was  engrossed  in  the 
task  of  slapping  the  dust  from  his  garments, 
while  his  eyes,  wandering  along  the  streets,  were 
searching  to  some  purpose. 

Curiosity  being  stronger  than  need,  it  was 
la  Mere  Corniche  who  put  the  first  question. 

"Well,  citoyen,  you  seek  some  one  in  this 
street?" 

6 


IN   SEARCH   OF  THE   REVOLUTION 

"  The  answer  should  be  apparent,"  the  young 
fellow  answered  frankly.  "  I  seek  a  lodging. 
Have  you  a  room  to  let  *?  " 

"  H'm  !  "  La  Mere  Corniche  eyed  him  un- 
favorably. "  Maybe  I  have,  and  maybe  I  have  n't ; 
I  take  no  aristocrats." 

The  young  man,  seeing  that  his  clothes  were 
in  disfavor,  began  to  laugh. 

"  In  as  far,  citoyenne,"  he  said,  wjth  a  sweep 
of  his  hand,  "  as  it  concerns  these,  I  plead  guilty: 
my  clothes  are  aristocrats.  But  hear  me,"  as  his 
listener  began  to  scowl.  "  They  were  ;  but  aristo- 
crats being  traitors,  I  confiscated  them;  and," 
he  added  slyly,  "  I  come  to  deliver  them  to  the 
State." 

"  And  to  denounce  the  traitors,  citoyen,"  the 
concierge  exclaimed  fiercely,  "even  were  they 
your  father  and  mother." 

"Even  that — if  I  had  a  family,"  he  added 
cautiously.  "And  now,  citoyenne,  what  can 
you  do  for  me  ?  " 

With  this  direct  question,  the  fanatic  light  in 
her  face  died  away.  The  little  woman  with- 
drew a  step  and  ran  her  eyes  over  the  prospec- 
tive tenant.  She  made  him  repeat  the  question, 
and  finally  said,  with  a  sigh,  as  though  regretting 
the  price  she  had  fixed  in  her  mind,  "How 
long?" 

7 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"  A  year — two  years — indefinitely." 

"There  are  two  rooms  and  a  parlor  on  the 
second,"  she  began  tentatively. 

"  That  suits  me." 

"  The  price  will  be  for  you — "  la  Mere  Cor- 
niche  hastened  to  increase  the  sum,  "  thirty 
francs  a  month." 

"  Good." 

"  Payable  in  advance." 

The  young  fellow  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
with  a  comical  grin  turned  his  pockets  inside  out. 

"  What ! "  la  Mere  Corniche  shrieked  in 
her  astonishment.  "  You  swindler !  You  have 
taken  an  apartment  at  thirty  francs  a  month 
without  a  sou  in  your  pocket." 

"At  present." 

"  Get  off,  you,  who  'd  rob  a  poor  old  woman." 

"  We  '11  renounce  the  apartment,  then,"  he 
cried,  with  a  laugh.  "  One  room,  citoyenne ; 
give  me  one  room  if  you  are  a  patriot." 

"  Patriot — robber !  Be  off  or  I  '11  denounce 
you ! " 

The  young  fellow,  seeing  his  case  hopeless, 
prepared  to  depart. 

"Good-by,  then,  mother,"  he  said.  "And 
thanks  for  your  patriotic  reception.  Only  direct 
me  to  the  house  of  Marat  and  I  'm  done  with 
you." 

8 


IN   SEARCH   OF   THE   REVOLUTION 

"  What  have  you  to  do  with  the  Citoyen 
Marat  ? "  cried  the  old  woman,  startled  into 
speech  at  that  name. 

"  That  is  my  affair." 

"  You  know  him  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  letter  to  him." 

La  Mere  Corniche  looked  at  him  in  inde- 
cision. An  emissary  to  Marat  was  a  very  differ- 
ent matter.  She  struggled  silently  between  her 
avarice  and  the  one  adoration  of  her  life,  until 
her  listener,  mistaking  her  silence,  turned  impa- 
tiently on  his  heel. 

"  Here,  come  back,"  the  concierge  cried,  thus 
brought  to  decision.  "  Let  me  see  your  letter." 

The  young  fellow  shrugged  his  shoulders 
good-humoredly  and  produced  a  large  envelop, 
on  which  the  curious  eye  of  his  listener  be- 
held the  magic  words,  "  To  Jean  Paul  Marat." 
But  if  she  had  hoped  to  find  on  it  some  clue 
to  its  sender,  she  was  disappointed.  She 
turned  the  letter  over  and  handed  it  reluctantly 
back. 

"  Private  business,  hey  ?  " 

"  Particularly  private,"  he  said.  Then,  seeing 
his  advantage  and  following  up  his  good  for- 
tune, he  added:  "Now,  citoyenne,  don't  you 
think  you  could  tuck  me  away  somewhere  until 
I  make  a  fortune  ?  " 

9 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

The  old  woman  hesitated  a  moment  longer, 
whereupon  he  fell  to  scanning  pensively  the  ad- 
dress, and  mumbling  over  "Jean  Paul  Marat,  a 
great  man  that." 

"Dame,  I  '11  do  it!"  la  Mere  Corniche  sud- 
denly cried,  and  with  a  crook  of  her  thumb  she 
bade  him  follow  her.  But  immediately  she 
halted  and  asked : 

"  Citoyen—  ?  " 

"  Citoyen  Barabant — Eugene  Armand  Bara- 
bant" 

"Of—?" 

"  Of  38  Rue  Maugout,"  he  said  laconically, 
then,  with  a  smile,  modified  his  step  to  follow 
the  painful  progress  of  his  guide. 

At  the  dark 'entrance  a  raven  game  hopping 
to  meet  them,  filling  the  gloom  with  his  raucous 
cry.  Barabant  halted. 

"  It 's  only  Jean  Paul,"  explained  the  old 
woman.  "  He  brings  good  luck." 

She  placed  him,  flapping  his  wings,  on  her 
shoulder  and  continued.  At  the  first  court,  by 
the  stairs  that  led  to  the  vacant  apartment  on 
the  second  floor,  she  hesitated,  but  the  indecision 
was  momentary.  Into  the  second  court  Bara- 
bant followed  with  an  air  of  interest  that  showed 
that,  though  perhaps  familiar  with  the  streets  of 
Paris,  he  had  never  delved  into  its  secret  places. 

10 


IN   SEARCH   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

Twice  more  la  Mere  Corniche  halted  before 
possible  lodgings,  until  at  last,  having  vanquished 
each  temptation,  she  began  to  clamber  up  the 
shaky  flights  that  led  to  the  attic. 

Barabant  had  perceived  each  mental  struggle 
with  great  enjoyment.  He  was  young,  adven- 
turous, entering  life  through  strange  gates.  So 
when  at  length  they  reached  the  end  of  their 
climb,  and  his  guide,  after  much  tugging,  ac- 
companied by  occasional  kicks,  had  forced  open 
the  reluctant  door,  the  dingy  attic  appeared  to 
him  a  haven  of  splendor. 

La  Mere  Corniche  watched  him  curiously 
from  the  doorway,  rubbing  her  chin.  "Eh, 
Citoyen  Barabant  ?  Well,  does  it  suit  you  ?  " 

"  Perfect." 

He  cast  a  careless  glance  at  the  impoverished 
room  and  craned  out  of  the  window.  In  his 
survey  of  the  court,  his  eye  rested  a  moment  on 
the  window  below,  where,  through  the  careless 
folds  of  a  half-curtain,  he  had  caught  the  gleam 
of  a  white  arm. 

"  And  what  is  the  price  of  this  ?  "  he  asked ; 
but  his  thoughts  were  elsewhere. 

"  Nothing." 

La  Mere  Corniche  sighed  heroically,  and  has- 
tened on  as  though  distrusting  her  generosity. 
"Only,  when  you  see  Citoyen  Marat,  tell  him 

1 1 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

that  I,  Citoyenne  Corniche,  have  done  this  to  one 
who  is  his  friend." 

Barabant  remained  one  moment  motionless, 
as  though  confounded  at  this  remnant  of  human 
feeling  in  the  sibyl.  But  the  door  had  hardly 
closed  when,  without  a  glance  at  his  new  quar 
ters,  he  was  again  at  the  window.  The  truth 
was  that,  without  hesitating  to  reflect  on  the  in- 
sufficiency of  the  evidence,  he  had  already  built 
a  romance  on  the  sight  of  a  white  arm  seen  two 
stories  below  through  the  folds  of  a  curtain.  So 
when  he  returned  eagerly  to  his  scrutiny,  what 
was  his  disenchantment  to  perceive  below  a  very 
buxom  matron,  who  was  regarding  him  with 
equal  attentiveness. 

Barabant,  with  a  laugh  at  his  own  discomfit- 
ure, began  to  search  more  cautiously.  And  as 
one  deception  in  youth  is  sufficient  to  make  a 
skeptic  for  an  hour,  when  in  turn  he  began  to 
explore  the  window  opposite  he  received,  with 
indifference,  the  view  of  another  arm,  though  it 
was  equally  white  and  well  modeled. 

But  this  time,  as  though  Fate  were  determined 
to  rebuke  him  for  scorning  her  gifts,  there  ap- 
peared at  the  window  the  figure  of  a  young  girl, 
whose  early  toilet  allowed  to  be  seen  a  throat 
and  arm  of  sufficient  whiteness  to  dazzle  the 
young  romanticist. 

.   12 


IN   SEARCH   OF  THE   REVOLUTION 

Youth  and  natural  coquetry  fortunately  are 
stronger  than  the  indifference  of  poverty.  Had 
Barabant  been  fifty  the  girl  would  have  continued 
her  inspection  undisturbed;  but  perceiving  him 
to  be  in  the  twenties,  and  with  a  certain  air  of 
distinction,  she  hastily  withdrew,  covering  her 
throat  with  an  instinctive  motion  of  her  hand, 
and  leaving  Barabant,  forgetful  of  his  first  disen- 
chantment, to  gallop  through  the  delightful  fields 
of  a  new  romance. 


II 

A  RESCUE  FROM  ARISTOCRATS 

AFTER  a  moment  of  vain  expectation,  Bara- 
bant  withdrew  to  the  inspection  of  his 
new  possessions.  In  one  corner  stood  a  bed  that 
bore  the  marks  of  many  restorations.  Each  leg 
was  of  a  different  shape,  rudely  fastened  to  the 
main  body,  which,  despite  threatening  fissures, 
had  still  survived  by  the  aid  of  several  hitches 
of  stout  rope  that  encouraged  the  joints.  One 
pillow  and  two  coverings,  one  chair  and  a  chest 
of  drawers,  that  answered  to  much  tugging,  com- 
pleted the  installation.  The  floor  was  of  tiles; 
the  ceiling,  responding  to  the  sagging  of  the  roof, 
bulged  and  cracked,  while  in  one  spot  it  had 
even  receded  so  far  that  a  ray  of  the  sun  squeezed 
through  and  fell  in  a  dusty  flight  to  the  floor. 

Barabant's  survey  was  completed  in  an  instant. 
Returning  to  the  bed,  he  paused  doubtfully  and 
cautiously  tried  its  strength  with  a  shake.  Then 
he  seated  himself  and  slowly  drew  up  both  legs. 
The  bed  still  remaining  intact,  he  turned  over, 

H 


A   RESCUE   FROM   ARISTOCRATS 

threw  the  covers  over  him,  and,  worn  out  with  the 
journey,  fell  asleep. 

It  was  almost  ten  when  he  stirred,  and  the 
August  sun  was  pouring  through  the  gabled 
window.  A  mouse  scampered  hurriedly  home 
as  he  started  up ;  a  couple  of  sparrows,  hovering 
undecidedly  on  the  sill,  fluttered  off.  He  sat  up, 
rubbing  his  eyes  with  the  confusion  of  one  who 
awakens  at  an  unaccustomed  hour,  and  then 
sprang  to  the  floor  so  impetuously  that  the  bed 
protested  with  a  warning  creak.  His  first  move- 
ment was  to  the  window,  where  an  eager  glance 
showed  the  opposite  room  vacant.  More  leisurely 
he  turned  to  a  survey  of  his  horizon,  where  in 
the  distance  the  roofs,  of  an  equal  height,  rolled 
away  in  high,  sloping  billows  of  brown  tile  dotted 
with  flashes  of  green  or  the  white  fleck  of  linen. 
The  air  was  warm,  but  still  alive  with  the  freshness 
of  the  morning,  inviting  him  to  be  out  and  see- 
ing. He  left  his  bundle  carelessly  on  the  chair, 
brushed  his  clothes,  arranged  his  neck-cloth  by 
means  of  a  pocket-mirror,  preparing  himself  with 
solicitude  for  his  appearance  in  the  streets. 

He  descended  the  stairs  alertly,  listening  for 
any  sound  of  his  neighbors;  but  the  stairways,  as 
well  as  the  courts,  were  silent  and  empty,  for  at 
that  period  all  Paris  hastened  daily  to  the  streets, 
expectant  of  great  events. 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

Through  the  ugly,  tortuous  streets  of  the  Fau- 
bourg St.  Antoine  Barabant  plunged  eagerly  to 
the  boulevard,  where  the  crowd,  circulating 
slowly,  lingered  from  corner  to  corner,  drifting  to 
every  knot  of  discussion,  avaricious  for  every 
crumb  of  rumor.  Hawkers  of  ballads  and  pam- 
phlets sought  to  slip  their  wares  into  the  young 
fellow's  hand  with  a  show  of  mystery  and  fear  of 
detection.  One  whispered  his  "  Midnight  Diver- 
sions of  the  Austrian  Veto  " ;  another  showed  him 
furtively  the  title,  "  Capet  Exposed  by  his  Valet." 

Refusing  all  these,  Barabant  halted  at  every 
shop-window,  before  numberless  engravings  rep- 
resenting the  Fall  of  the  Bastille,  the  Oath  in  the 
Tennis-court,  and  the  Section-halls. 

The  gloomy,  disheveled  figures  of  the  Mar- 
seillais  were  abroad,  stalking  melodramatically 
through  the  crowds  or  filling  the  cafes  to  thun- 
der out  their  denunciations  of  tyrants  and  aristo- 
crats. Fishwives  and  washerwomen  retailed  to  all 
comers  the  latest  alarms. 

"  The  aristocrats  are  burning  the  grain-fields !  " 

"A  plot  has  been  unearthed  to  exterminate 
the  patriots  by  grinding  glass  in  their  flour." 

"  The  Faubourg  St.  Antoine  is  to  be  destroyed 
by  fire." 

Venders  of  relics  offered  the  manacles  of  the 
Bastille  and  the  rope-ladder  of  Latude ;  fortune- 

16 


A   RESCUE   FROM   ARISTOCRATS 

tellers  prophesied,  for  a  consideration,  the  fall  of 
Capet  and  the  advent  of  the  Republic ;  an  ex- 
hibitor of  trick-dogs  advertised  a  burlesque  on 
the  return  of  the  royal  family  from  Versailles. 
At  a  marionette  theater  the  dolls  represented 
public  personages,  and  the  king  and  the  queen 
(Veto  and  the  Austrian)  were  battered  and  hu- 
miliated to  the  applause  of  the  crowds. 

At  points  on  Barabant's  progress  he  listened 
to  young  fellows  from  tables  or  chairs  reading  to 
the  illiterate  from  the  newspapers,  quoting  from 
witty  Camille  Desmoulins  or  sullen,  headlong 
Marat.  Barabant  was  amazed  at  the  response 
from  the  audience,  at  their  sudden  movements 
to  laughter  or  anger.  Swayed  by  the  infection, 
his  lips  moved  involuntarily  with  a  hundred  im- 
petuous thoughts.  In  this  era  that  promised  so 
much  to  youth,  which  demanded  its  ardor,  its 
enthusiasm,  and  its  faith,  he  longed  to  emerge 
from  obscurity.  For  youth  is  the  period  of 
large  resolutions,  ardent  convictions,  and  the 
championship  of  desperate  causes.  In  that  season, 
when  the  world  is  new,  the  mind,  fascinated  by 
its  unfolding  strength,  leaps  over  decisions,  doubts 
nothing,  nor  hesitates.  In  revolutions  it  is  the 
generation  that  dares  that  leads. 

From  the  young   and   daring  Faubourg  St. 
Antoine  Barabant  emerged,  inspired,  elate,  and 

17 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

meditative.  Barabant,  disciple  of  the  Revolution 
of  Ideas,  was  bewildered  by  the  might  of  this 
torrent.  It  excited  his  vision,  but  it  terrified 
him.  It  was  immense,  but  it  might  erupt 
through  a  dozen  forced  openings. 

In  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  where  the  discussions 
grew  more  abstract,  he  was  startled  at  the  con- 
trast. Great  events  were  struggling  to  the  sur- 
face, yet  here  in  the  cafes  men  discussed  charm- 
ingly on  theory  and  principle;  nor  could  he 
fancy,  fresh  from  the  vigor  of  the  people,  the 
sacred  Revolution  among  these  gay  colors,  im- 
maculate wigs,  and  well-fed  and  thirsty  orators. 

But  this  first  impression,  acute  with  the  shock 
of  contrast,  was  soon  succeeded  by  a  feeling  of 
stimulation.  Attracted,  as  is  natural  in  youth, 
by  the  beautiful  and  the  luxurious,  and  led  by 
his  imagination  and  his  ambition,  he  forgot  his 
emotions.  Whereas  in  the  mob  he  had  felt 
himself  equal  to  the  martyr,  he  now  breathed  an 
air  that  aroused  his  powers.  They  discussed  the 
freedom  of  the  individual,  the  liberty  of  the  press, 
and  the  abolishment  of  the  penalty  of  death,  with 
grace  and  with  unfailing,  agile  wit,  and  debated 
the  Republic  with  the  airs  of  the  court. 

Barabant,  who  wished  to  see  everything  at 
once,  made  a  rapid  excursion  to  the  Tuileries, 
to  the  Place  de  la  Greve,  the  Place  de  la  Revo- 

18 


A   RESCUE   FROM   ARISTOCRATS 

lution,  the  Markets,  and  the  famous  Hall  of  the 
Jacobins. 

Toward  evening,  as  the  dusk  invaded  the 
streets,  and  the  lanterns,  from  their  brackets  on 
the  walls,  set  up  their  empire  over  the  fleeting 
day,  an  indefinable  melancholy  descended  over 
him :  the  melancholy  of  the  city  that  affects  the 
young  and  the  stranger.  Barabant's  spirits,  quick 
to  soar,  momentarily  succumbed  to  that  feeling 
of  loneliness  and  aloofness  that  attacks  the  indi- 
vidual in  the  solitudes  of  nature  and  in  that 
wilderness  of  men,  the  city. 

He  was  leaning  against  a  pillar  in  the  Rue  St. 
Honore",  in  this  ruminative  mood  watching  the 
unfamiliar  crowd,  when  his  glance  was  stopped 
by  the  figure  of  a  flower-girl.  She  was  tall,  dark, 
and  lithe,  and,  though  without  any  particular 
charm  of  form,  she  had  such  an  unusual  grace 
in  her  movements  that  he  fell  curiously  to  specu- 
lating on  her  face.  But  the  turning  proving  a 
disappointment,  he  laughed  at  his  haste,  and  his 
glance  wandered  elsewhere. 

"  Citoyen,  buy  my  cockade  ?  " 

Barabant  turned  quickly;  the  flower-girl  was 
at  his  side,  smiling  mischievously  up  at  him. 
He  was  conscious  of  a  sudden  embarrassment  — 
a  solicitude  for  his  bearing  before  the  frank 
amusement  of  the  girl.  This  time  he  did  not 

19 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

turn  away  so  carelessly.  The  face  was  attractive 
despite  its  irregularity,  full  of  force  in  the  free 
span  of  the  forehead  and  of  sudden  passions  in  the 
high,  starting  eyebrows.  The  eyes  alone  seemed 
cold  and  sardonic,  without  emotion  or  change. 

"  Come,  citoyen,  a  cockade." 

Barabant  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  diving 
into  his  purse,  at  length  produced  a  few  coppers. 

"A  patriot's  dinner  is  more  my  need,  cito- 
yenne,  than  a  cockade." 

The  girl,  who  had  been  watching  with  amuse- 
ment this  search  after  the  elusive  coins,  ignoring 
his  answer,  asked  curiously  : 

"  From  the  provinces  *?  " 

Barabant,  resenting  the  patronizing  tone,  said 
stiffly : 

"No." 

"But  not  quite  Parisian,"  the  flower-girl  re- 
turned, with  a  smile,  and  her  glance  traveled  in- 
quiringly over  the  incongruous  make-up. 

Barabant  laughed.    "  Parisian  by  a  day  only." 

The  girl  smiled  again,  and,  suddenly  fastening 
a  cockade  on  his  lapel,  said :  "  You  are  a  good- 
looking  chap ;  keep  your  sous ;  when  your  purse 
is  fuller,  remember  me."  And  thrusting  back 
his  proffered  money,  she  took  up  her  basket  and 
nodded  gaily  to  him.  "  Good  luck  to  you,  citoyen. 
Vive  la  jeunesse !" 

20 


A  RESCUE  FROM   ARISTOCRATS 

The  accidental  meeting  quite  restored  him  to 
his  eager  zest  again.  The  one  greeting  con- 
verted the  wilderness  into  a  familiar  land.  He 
started  on  his  walk,  seeking  a  humble  bill  of 
fare  within  the  range  of  his  modest  resources. 
He  chose  one  where  the  dinner  consisted  of  a 
thick  soup  the  filling  qualities  of  which  he  knew 
—  a  puree  of  beans  and  a  piece  of  cheese.  It  was 
still  somewhat  earlier  than  the  dinner-hour,  and 
he  finished  his  meal  silently  watched  by  the 
waiter  with  suspicious  eyes.  Thence  he  wan- 
dered through  brighter  streets,  pausing  at  times 
on  the  skirts  of  the  crowd  that  invaded  the 
cafes,  which  now  began  to  grow  noisy  with  im- 
promptu oratory. 

The  Palais  Royal  with  its  flaring  halls  drew 
him  to  its  tumultuous  life.  He  wandered  through 
the  gambling-rooms,  through  fakers'  exhibitions, 
heedless  of  siren  voices,  watching  the  play  of 
pickpockets  and  dupes,  until  suddenly  in  the 
crowd  a  figure  of  unusual  oddity  caught  his 
attention :  a  tall,  military  man  with  a  cocked 
hat,  shifted  very  much  over  one  ear,  and  a  nose 
thrown  back  so  far  that  it  seemed  to  be  scouting 
in  the  air,  fearful  lest  its  owner  should  miss  a 
single  rumor. 

Without  purpose  in  his  wanderings,  Barabant 
unconsciously  fell  to  following  this  new  character. 

21 


IN   THE   NAME   OF  LIBERTY 

The  body  was  lank,  the  legs  long, — out  of  all  pro- 
portion, and  so  thin  that  they  seemed  rather  a 
pair  of  pliable  stilts, —  while  the  arms  hung  or 
moved  in  loose  jerks  as  though  dependent  from 
the  joints  of  a  manikin. 

Oblivious  to  the  banter  and  the  scrutiny  of  the 
throng,  the  wanderer  pursued  his  inquisitive  way. 
From  time  to  time  he  stopped,  craning  his  neck 
and  remaining  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of 
a  chance  display  of  tricolor  or  a  group  of  shrill 
orators  sounding  their  eloquence  to  the  eager 
mass.  The  inspection  ended,  a  guttural  exclama- 
tion or  a  whistle  escaping  the  lips  showed  that  the 
impression  had  been  registered  behind  the  keen, 
laughing  countenance.  Gradually  the  crowd, 
inclined  at  first  to  jeer,  perceiving  him  utterly 
unconscious  of  their  interest,  turned  to  banter; 
but  there  too  they  were  met  with  the  utmost 
complacency. 

•  "  Hey,  Daddy  Long-legs !  " 

"  Beware  you  keep  out  of  their  reach,  my 
friend." 

"  Citizen  Scissors ! " 

"  Citizen  Stilts ! " 

"  Citizen  Pique  la  bise  !  " 

At  this  last  allusion  to  the  manner  in  which  his 
nose  might  be  said  to  cut  the  breeze,  he  opened 
wide  a  gaping  mouth  and  roared  "  Touche  ! "  so 

22 


A   RESCUE   FROM   ARISTOCRATS 

heartily  that  the  crowd,  who  never  laugh  long 
at  those  who  laugh  with  them,  returned  to  their 
occupation  with  grunts  of  approval.  Still  there 
remained  to  be  revealed  the  complexion  of  his 
political  belief:  whether  it  was  a  patriot  that 
thus  paraded  the  steadfast  Palais  Royal,  or  a  hire- 
ling of  a  tyrant  aristocracy. 

Here  again  the  visitor  puzzled  all  conjectures. 
Arrived  opposite  the  cafe,  "  To  the  Fall  of  the 
Bastille,"  his  glance  no  sooner  seized  the  inscrip- 
tion than  he  snatched  off  his  hat  with  so  hearty 
a  "  Bravo ! "  that  his  neighbors  echoed  the  in- 
fectious acclamation ;  but  at  the  very  next  turn, 
perceiving  a  mountebank's  counter  presided  over 
by  a  pretty  citizeness,  he  paused  and  repeated 
the  salute  with  equal  vigor.  Now,  though  the 
tribute  to  a  pretty  face  could  not  justly  distinguish 
the  parties,  yet  the  inspiration  and  the  manner 
had  the  taint  of  aristocracy.  So  that  those  who 
had  listened  looked  dubious,  then  scratched  their 
heads,  and  finally  retired,  laughing  over  their  own 
mystification. 

With  a  gluttonous  chuckle  the  stranger 
turned  suddenly  into  a  neighboring  passage. 
Barabant  followed,  in  time  to  see  the  lean  figure 
mount  a  chance  staircase,  ascending  which  on 
the  humor  of  the  moment,  he  emerged  in  turn 
into  a  cafe  of  unusual  magnificence. 

23 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

Having  no  money  with  which  to  pay  a  con- 
sommation  at  the  tables,  Barabant  remained 
among  the  spectators.  The  tall  stranger  had 
joined  a  group  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  whence 
a  florid  Chevalier  de  St.  Louis  cried  bombasti- 
cally : 

"Citizen  Bottle-opener,  send  me  the  Citizen 
Table-wiper!" 

"  And  bring  the  Citizen  Broom,"  took  up  an- 
other, "  to  expel  this  Citizen  Dog ! " 

"Let  the  Citizen  Crier,"  added  another,  with 
careless  scorn,  "call  the  Citizen  My  Carriage!" 

Amid  this  persiflage  Barabant  remained,  chaf- 
ing and  angry,  realizing  that  he  had  stumbled 
into  that  abomination  of  patriots,  a  den  of 
aristocrats. 

The  purport  of  all  table-to-table  addresses  was 
the  incompetency  of  the  National  Assembly  and 
the  state  of  anarchy  existing  since  the  royal  power 
had  been  defied.  Although  the  caf<§  was  not  acces- 
sible to  the  mob,  and  was  evidently  of  a  certain 
clientele,  there  was  a  smattering  of  unaccustomed 
guests,  who  manifested  their  disapproval  of  these 
remarks  by  grumbling  and  even  threats. 

Barabant  at  length,  losing  control  of  his  temper, 
sprang  upon  a  chair. 

"A  government,"  he  cried  —  "yes,  a  govern- 
ment is  what  we  need.  Let  us  be  frank:  the 

24 


A   RESCUE   FROM   ARISTOCRATS 

present  condition  of  affairs  is  an  anomaly.  It 
cannot  exist.  The  Revolution  is  to-day  a  farce." 

"  Anarchy ! "  "  Chaos! "  "Bravo!"  "Continue!" 

"  And  why  *?  "  he  went  on.  "  Because  it  has 
not  gone  far  enough.  Either  king  or  revolution : 
the  two  cannot  exist.  What  we  need  is  the 
Republic,  the  Republic,  the  Republic ! " 

The  words  fell  on  the  room  like  offal  thrown 
in  the  midst  of  ravenous  wolves.  A  hideous 
upheaval,  a  hoarse  shout,  a  multitude  of  scram- 
bling forms,  and  the  listeners  who  had  mistaken 
the  drift  of  his  first  words  rose  in  fury.  Some 
one  pulled  the  table  from  under  him.  There 
were  shouts  and  blows,  a  confusion  of  bodies 
before  his  eyes,  and  babel  let  loose.  In  the 
midst  of  it  he  felt  himself  suddenly  enveloped 
in  a  pair  of  wiry  arms  and  dragged  through  the 
melee.  He  struggled,  but  the  grip  that  held  him 
was  not  to  be  shaken.  Leaving  behind  the 
shouting,  they  passed  out  into  the  turning  of  a 
corridor,  then  through  another  into  quiet  and  a 
garden.  There  his  captor,  setting  him  on  his 
feet,  drew  back  with  a  smile.  Barabant,  glan- 
cing up,  beheld  the  lank  military  figure  of  an 
hour  before,  with  his  nose  tipped  in  the  air  in  im- 
pudent enjoyment. 

"  Well,  my  knight-errant,"  he  said  quizzically, 
"  the  next  time  you  preach  the  Republic,  select 

25 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

a  Sans-Culotte  audience  and  not  a  Royalist  cafe, 
or  there  may  not  be  a  Dossonville  to  rescue 
you." 

Barabant  smoothed  out  his  clothes,  crestfallen, 
but  resumed  his  dignity. 

"  From  the  country ! "  his  rescuer  continued, 
and  the  amusement  gave  place  to  one  of  re- 
flectiveness. "  Dame !  are  they  already  crying 
for  the  Republic  outside  of  Paris  *?  " 

"  They  are.  That  is,"  Barabant  added,  "  the 
masses  are  done  with  the  king.  The  Girondins 
are  not  so  radical." 

"  H'm ! "  Dossonville  said  for  all  answer.  He 
stood  silent  a  moment,  wrapped  in  his  own 
thoughts,  before  he  again  questioned  him :  "  And 
the  Revolution:  do  you  hear  such  opinions  as 
you  heard  to-night  in  the  provinces'?  Is  there 
no  sign  of  a  reaction  *?  " 

"  No ;  everything  is  for  more  radical  mea- 
sures." 

With  this  answer,  Dossonville  seemed  to  dis- 
miss the  matter  from  his  mind.  He  looked  him 
over  again,  and  a  twinkle  showing  in  his  eyes,  he 
asked  : 

"  More  enthusiasm  than  friends,  hey  ?  " 

Barabant  laughed.     "  True." 

"  And  what  are  you  counting  upon  doing  *?  " 

Barabant  remained  silent. 
26 


A   RESCUE   FROM   ARISTOCRATS 

"  Good  —  discretion  !  " 

Barabant,  determined  to  shift  the  inquiry,  de- 
manded point-blank : 

"  What  were  you  doing  in  a  cafe  of  aristo- 
crats?" 

"  What  were  you  ? "  Dossonville  retorted. 
"  There  are  many  ways  to  serve  the  Revolution 
besides  proclaiming  it  from  the  tops  of  tables. 
Leave  me  my  ways.  Do  you  think  if  I  were  an 
aristocrat  I  'd  have  taken  the  pains  to  save  you  ? 
Come,  young  man,  don't  turn  your  back  on 
opportunities.  Swallow  your  pride  and  confess 
that  there  are  not  many  more  meals  in  sight." 

"  I  am  but  a  day  in  Paris,"  Barabant  answered ; 
and  then,  lest  he  should  seem  to  have  relented : 
"  there  are  a  hundred  ways  to  find  a  living." 

"  Can  you  write  *?  Have  you  written  pam- 
phlets ?  "  Dossonville  persisted.  "  What  would 
you  say  to  a  chance  to  see  that  fine  eloquence 
caught  in  black  and  white  and  circulating  in  the 
streets  ?  " 

Barabant's  face  flushed  with  such  a  sudden 
delight  that  the  other  laughingly  drew  his  arm 
into  his  and  exclaimed : 

"  Come,  I  see  how  it  is.  Camille  Desmoulins 
is  only  twenty-nine.  It  is  the  age  for  the  young- 
sters. Only  —  "  He  stopped  suddenly.  "  There 
are  many  degrees  of  Republicans  nowadays. 

27 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

Does  your  eloquence  run  in  the  line  of  our 
valiant  radical  Marat,  or  Danton  and  Desmou- 
lins,  or  are  we  of  the  school  of  Condorcet  and 
Roland  ?  " 

"  I  am  Girondin,"  Barabant  answered. 

"  Good."  He  reflected  a  moment.  "  Just  the 
place ! " 

He  started  on,  and  then  suddenly  stopped,  as 
by  habit  of  caution.  "  No,  not  to-night.  Where 
do  you  live  *?  " 

"  Eugene  Barabant,  Rue  Maugout,  No.  38." 
He  drew  out  two  letters.  "  I  have  a  word  of 
introduction  to  Roland." 

"  And  the  other  *? " 

"  To  Marat." 

"  Ah,  Marat,"  Dossonville  said,  with  a  sudden 
cooling.  "A  strong  man  that,  and  very  patri- 
otic." 

'?  I  do  not  intend  to  present  it,"  Barabant  said, 
seeing  the  change.  He  hesitated  a  moment,  as 
though  to  reveal  a  confidence,  while  a  smile 
struggled  to  his  lips.  But  in  the  end,  resisting 
the  desire,  he  said  evasively,  "  It  is  a  measure  of 
protection,  in  case  of  danger." 

Dossonville  scrutinized  him  sharply,  and  then, 
as  though  reassured  by  the  frank  visage,  he  said : 
"  Very  well ;  I  '11  be  around  to-morrow  night. 
Try  your  hand  at  a  polemic  or  two.  Have  you 

28 


A   RESCUE   FROM   ARISTOCRATS 

a  knack  of  poetry  ?  Satires  are  more  powerful 
than  arguments.  A  laugh  can  trip  up  a  co- 
lossus." 

"  I  have  done  a  little  verse." 

"  Who  has  n't  ?  "  He  paused.  "  You  will  be 
discreet  ?  Au  revoir ! " 

He  turned  on  his  heel,  but  immediately  re- 
turned. 

"  I  forgot.     One  word  of  advice." 

"Well?" 

"  Revolutions  strike  only  among  the  steeples. 
Take  my  advice :  renounce  publicity  and  remain 
obscure." 

"But  I  had  rather  die  in  this  age  than  live 
through  another." 

"Well, my  duty's  done,"  Dossonville  answered, 
shrugging  his  shoulders.  Then  repeating  to 
himself  Barabant's  last  response,  he  added,  "  That 
sounds  well ;  food  for  the  mob ;  put  it  down." 

And  without  more  ado,  he  left  him  as  de- 
lighted as  though  he  had  just  been  elected  to 
the  National  Convention. 


29 


Ill 

CITOYENNE    NICOLE 

TOWARD  six  o'clock  the  next  morning, 
when  la  Mere  Corniche  and  her  broom 
alone  were  stirring,  there  appeared  at  a  gabled 
window  that  broke  through  the  crust  of  the 
roofs,  the  figure  of  a  young  girl,  who,  after  a 
glance  down  at  the  quiet  courtyard  and  the 
windows  void  of  life,  remained  to  give  the  final 
touches  to  a  scattering  of  golden  hair. 

The  air  was  still  young,  and  in  the  skies  the 
multifarious  tints  of  the  dawn  had  not  quite 
faded  as  the  burly  sun  bobbed  up  among  the 
distant  chimney-tops.  She  ensconced  herself  in 
the  window,  running  her  hands  with  indolent 
movements  through  the  meshes  as  though  re- 
luctant to  leave  the  flash  and  play  of  the  sun 
amid  its  lusters.  She  was  young  and  pretty,  and 
she  knew  it,  and,  with  a  frank  enjoyment,  she  let 
the  long  locks  slip  through  her  fingers  or  brought 
them  caressingly  against  her  cheek. 

Though  from  her  figure  she  could  not  have 

30 


CITOYENNE  NICOLE 

been  more  than  eighteen,  yet  in  the  poise  of  her 
head  and  in  the  subtile  smile,  full  of  grace  and 
piquancy,  there  showed  the  coquetry  of  the 
woman  who  plans  to  please  the  masculine  eye. 

Suddenly  she  sprang  back,  leaving  the  win- 
dow vacant.  A  moment  later  there  emerged 
opposite  the  thoughtful  face  of  Barabant.  Un- 
aware of  her  proximity,  he  swept  the  courtyard 
with  an  indifferent  look,  and  drawing  from  his 
pocket  the  three  sous  that  alone  remained  to 
him,  he  fell  into  a  deep  meditation. 

Presently  the  sprightly  eyes  and  mischievous 
profile  of  the  girl  returned,  cautiously,  as  though 
awaiting  a  challenge.  Then,  as  in  the  abstrac- 
tion of  his  mood  he  continued  to  be  oblivious  to 
her  presence,  she  advanced  to  fuller  view. 

Gradually  her  curiosity  became  excited  by  an 
evident  conflict  in  his1  moods.  At  one  moment 
he  pulled  a  long,  somber  face,  and  at  the  next 
he  lapsed  into  laughter.  As  human  nature  can- 
not endure  in  silence  the  spectacle  of  some  one 
laughing  to  himself,  the  girl,  unable  longer  to 
restrain  her  interest,  called  to  him  with  that  mel- 
ody which  is  natural  to  the  voice  of  a  maiden : 

"  Well,  citoyen,  are  you  going  to  laugh  or 
cry?" 

At  her  banter,  Barabant  started  up  so  suddenly 
that  one  of  the  sous  which  he  had  been  re- 

31 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

garding  meditatively  slipped  from  his  fingers, 
bounded  on  the  roof,  rolled  along  the  gutter, 
and  disappeared  in  the  water-hole. 

"  Diable  !  there  goes  my  dinner  ! " 

*'  How  so  *? "  the  girl  said,  repressing  her 
laugh  at  his  long  face. 

"  I  had  three ;  one  for  lunch,  one  for  dinner, 
and  one  for  some  purchases  I  intend  to  make." 

"  Dame !  citoyen,  three  are  not  many  sous." 

Barabant  drew  himself  up  proudly.  "  Plenty, 
after  to-night." 

"  When  your  banker  returns  ?  " 

"  Exactly." 

"  And  I  have  made  you  lose  your  dinner :  a 
bad  beginning  for  neighbors,  Citoyen  —  ?" 

"Citoyen  Eugene  Barabant.     Citoyenne — ?" 

"  Nicole." 

"  Nicole  —  <?  " 

"  Heavens,  is  n't  Nicole  enough  ?  One  name 
is  all  we  need;  besides,  it  would  take  me  too 
long  to  find  out  the  other." 

As  she  said  this,  she  smiled  so  unaffectedly 
that  Barabant,  forgetting  the  pangs  of  hunger, 
looked  on  admiringly. 

"  You  are  a  philosopher,  Nicole.  And  what 
do  you  do  —  if  it  is  not  indiscreet  to  ask  ?  " 

She  understood  perfectly  the  hesitancy,  but 
laughed  without  a  trace  of  disconcertion. 

32 


CITOYENNE   NICOLE 

"  Oh,  I  work  hard ;  I  am  a  bouquetiere. 
Which  reminds  me,  I  must  be  off  to  the  flower- 
market." 

However,  she  lingered  a  moment.  "And 
you,  citoyen?" 

"Traveler,"  Barabant  said,  with  a  superb 
wave  of  his  hand,  and  then  exploded  in  laughter 
at  the  thought.  "Citoyenne,  tell  me  some- 
thing." 

"  Speak." 

"  Have  you  ever  fasted  a  day  ?  " 

"  Hundreds  of  times." 

"  If  you  have  but  one  meal  in  sight,  when  is 
the  best  time  to  take  it  ?  " 

"  In  the  middle  of  the  day ;  something  may 
happen  before  dinner." 

Barabant  made  a  wry  face. 

"  Seriously,  how  much  have  you  ?  " 

He  held  up  the  two  sous. 

"  Two  sous,  and  you  speak  of  buying  a  meal, 
— a  crumb  of  bread ! " 

"  Perhaps,"  Barabant  admitted,  "  meal  is  an 
exaggeration." 

"  Come,  you  are  a  good  fellow,"  Nicole  said, 
nodding  approvingly.  "  You  have  the  right 
spirit.  I  have  made  you  lose  one  dinner;  it  is 
only  right  that  I  should  make  reparation.  Will 
you  lunch  with  me  ?  " 

33 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

To  her  amusement,  he  drew  up  proudly  at  the 
thought  of  accepting  a  favor  from  her.  She 
smiled  at  this  show  of  pride,  liking  it,  but 
trusting  in  the  bloom  and  charm  of  her  youth  to 
defeat  it.  She  did  not  trust  in  vain.  After  a 
brief  conflict  which  showed  clearly  the  weak 
surrender,  he  ended  by  smiling  in  turn. 

"  Only,"  he  cried,  "  I  accept  it  as  a  loan." 

"  Heavens  !  but  I  did  n't  intend  to  pay,  myself," 
she  protested,  well  pleased  with  her  victory.  "  If 
you  think  dinners  are  to  be  had  only  for  pay 
you  are  not  a  Parisian  yet." 

"  In  that  case,  I  accept." 

"  Meet  me,  then,  at  eleven  o'clock,  Place  de  la 
Republique,  Citoyen  Barabant." 

"  I  shall  be  there  an  hour  ahead !  " 

At  the  door  of  the  next  room  she  called, 
"  Louison  !  "  drumming  quietly  with  her  ringers. 
Receiving  no  answer,  she  entered.  The  bed  was 
vacant,  undisturbed.  Without  surprise,  and  with 
even  a  certain  satisfaction  at  being  freed  from 
the  company  of  her  friend,  she  passed  down  and 
out  into  the  streets  on  her  way  to  the  Marche  des 
Fleurs. 

As  she  went,  with  many  an  energetic  toss  of 
her  head  interspersed  with  pensive  smiles,  she 
turned  over  in  her  mind  the  impressions  of  her 
first  encounter,  with  the  confidence  of  the  woman 

34 


CITOYENNE  NICOLE 

who  at  the  first  exchange  of  glances  feels  her 
power.  He  had  shown  his  admiration  without 
timidity,  which  would  have  been  vexatious,  or 
forwardness,  which  would  have  been  unendur- 
able. She  liked  his  show  of  pride,  and  more 
that  he  had  yielded  before  the  temptation  of  her 
eyes.  That  tribute  sent  her  straying  into  the 
thousand  and  one  pleasurable  paths  with  which 
her  ardent  imagination  filled  the  future. 

At  the  flower-markets  her  preoccupation  was 
so  evident  that  she  was  compelled  to  run  the  fire 
of  banter.  She  bore  the  ordeal  with  equanimity, 
hurrying  away  with  buoyant  step  and  eyes  alert, 
impatient  for  the  morning  to  pass. 

She  passed  along  the  boulevards,  disposing  of 
her  cockades  among  regular  customers,  until  at 
length  she  arrived  at  her  destination,  the  Cafe 
Procope.  There,  mounted  on  a  chair,  a  short, 
roly-poly  ragamuffin,  with  bloated,  pouter  cheeks 
and  squinting,  almond  eyes,  was  reading  the 
morning  bulletins  in  such  thunderous  tones  that 
one  readily  divined  the  crier  of  carriages,  whose 
voice  had  been  trained  in  the  battle  of  street 
sounds. 

Among  those  assembled  at  the  tables,  she  di- 
rected her  way  to  where  a  gruff,  gaunt  man, 
sunk  in  a  capacious  redingote,  was  heralding 
her  approach  with  a  look  of  welcome. 

35 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"Good  morning,  Papa  Goursac,"  she  said, 
slipping  into  a  waiting  seat.  "  Here  's  your 
cockade, — the  best,  as  usual !  " 

"  There,  take  your  drink,"  he  answered, 
showing  her  the  glass.  He  roused  himself  from 
his  attitude  of  whimsical  inspection,  turning  to 
her  a  look  that  belied  the  stern  voice.  "  Well, 
and  what  luck  to-day  ?  " 

"  The  best,"  she  said,  showing  him  her  lightly 
laden  basket. 

"  Of  course  you  did  not  notice  the  new 
lodger,"  said  Goursac,  scornfully.  His  bushy 
eyebrows  and  looming  beak  seemed  so  grim  that 
Nicole  with  difficulty  suppressed  a  laugh. 

"  Indeed,"  she  said,  pretending  ignorance  to 
plague  him,  "  is  there  a  new  lodger  *?  " 

"  Yes,  but  he  's  a  doctor,  old  as  I  am,  so  he  '11 
not  interest  you." 

"  What  a  bad  humor  you  are  in,"  she  said, 
enjoying  his  wrath.  "As  though  you  did  not 
interest  me ! " 

"  You  know  what  I  mean." 

Aware  of  his  suspicious  scrutiny,  she  con- 
tinued. "  What  a  pity !  Why  could  n't  he 
have  been  a  young  fellow?  Ah,  mon  Dieu, 
what  time  is  it  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  know  *? "  growled 
Goursac.  "  Whom  are  you  going  to  meet  *?  " 

36 


CITOYENNE  NICOLE 

"The  old  doctor,  of  course,"  she  answered, 
laughing  as  she  escaped. 

As  she  passed  in  front,  the  ragamuffin  was 
still  roaring  the  news. 

"  Heavens,  Jambony,"  she  cried,  "  there  is  no 
need  to  let  the  foreigners  know  what  is  taking 
place ! " 

"Citoyenne,  you  exaggerate,"  the  carriage- 
crier  answered ;  "  I  am  only  whispering." 

"Then,  my  dear  Jambony,  just  think  your 
thoughts.  I  am  sure  they  will  be  loud  enough!  " 

In  great  good  humor,  she  began  to  work  her 
way  in  the  direction  of  the  wrecked  Bastille,  and 
perhaps  from  the  very  elevation  of  her  spirits, 
good  luck  quickly  emptied  her  basket.  Thus 
freed,  she  lapsed  into  the  spectator,  flattening  her 
nose  against  the  shop-windows  or  drifting  lazily 
from  knot  to  knot  of  discussion. 

All  at  once,  when  she  was  wandering  from  the 
thoroughfares  among  a  tangle  of  silent,  murky 
alleys,  a  child's  scream  brought  her  to  an  atten- 
tive halt.  The  cries  redoubled.  Without  a 
thought  of  personal  danger,  she  plunged  recklessly 
down  the  alley  in  the  direction  of  the  appeals. 
Under  the  bulging  shadow  of  a  balcony  a  girl 
was  struggling  in  the  clutches  of  a  mountebank, 
while,  from  a  box  on  the  ground,  a  monkey  was 
adding  its  shrill  chatter  to  the  broil. 

37 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

At  Nicole's  charge  the  man  released  the  girl 
with  an  oath  and  sprang  back  against  the  wall. 
At  the  sight  of  the  shriveled-parchment  face 
and  the  familiar  leer  Nicole  burst  out,  in  aston- 
ishment: 

"Ah,  Cramoisin,  I  might  have  known  it  was 
you!"  She  replaced  in  her  belt  the  knife  she  had 
drawn,  facing  him  with  the  whips  of  her  scorn. 

"Women  are  too  strong  for  you,  then  !  You 
must  match  your  strength  with  children.  Bravo ! 
my  brave  fellow,  you  are  the  victor  at  last.  Wait 
until  I  sing  your  praises.  You  shall  become 
famous,  tamer  of  children  !  " 

"Vixen!"  shrieked  the  mountebank,  stung  to 
words  by  her  gadding.  He  shook  a  lean  fist  at 
her,  crying,  "Thy  turn  '11  come ! " 

"  And  I  who  thought  you  were  pining  away 
for  love  of  me!"  she  continued  mercilessly. 
"  Fickle  Cramoisin  !  There,  be  off,  be  off,  do  you 
hear,  or  I  shall  be  tempted  to  chastise  you ! " 

Cramoisin,  not  disdaining  the  offer  of  retreat, 
slung  his  mountebank's  box  on  his  back  and 
scurried  off,  the  ape  on  his  shoulder  chattering 
back  at  them  with  communicated  fear. 

Nicole  turned.  A  slip  of  a  girl,  half  child, 
half  savage,  was  regarding  her  from  round,  wolf- 
ish eyes,  shrinking  against  the  wall.  "  There, 
there,  ma  petite,"  she  said,  "  there  is  nothing  to 

38 


CITOYENNE  NICOLE 

cry  about.  That  Cramoisin  is  as  weak  as  a  leaf; 
you  could  have  pushed  him  over  with  a  finger. 
And  your  knife  *?  " 

The  girl,  still  sobbing,  shook  her  head. 

"  Heavens !  child,  you  are  not  fit  to  be  abroad. 
There,  stop  crying,  I  tell  you.  I  do  not  like  to 
hear  it."  But  perceiving  that  the  girl  was 
thoroughly  unnerved,  she  abandoned  her  note  of 
command,  and,  enveloping  her  with  her  arm,  said 
gently  :  "  Come,  mon  enfant,  I  promise  you  there 
is  nothing  more  to  fear.  Cramoisin  is  as  much 
afraid  of  me  as  the  fat  Louis  of  the  Citoyen 
Marat.  I  '11  take  you  under  my  protection.  You 
are  nothing  but  a  child;  no  wonder  the  brute  has 
frightened  you.  Come,  what 's  your  name  ?  " 

"  Genevieve." 

"How  old?" 

"  Fifteen." 

"  But  that  is  almost  a  woman !  Why,  I  am 
but  eighteen.  One  must  be  gay,  that  is  all,  and 
have  a  bit  of  a  temper." 

Seeing  that  the  girl  was  recovering,  she  con- 
tinued for  a  while  her  light  tone.  "  And  where 
do  you  live  *?  " 

"  38  Rue  Maugout." 

"  Impossible !  Since  when  *?  " 

"Two  months." 

"  How  curious !  And  I  have  never  noticed  you." 

39 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

"  I  am  not  very  big." 

"Bah,  you  are  big  enough  and  old  enough, 
only  you  need  some  hints.  See  there !  "  With  a 
deft  hand  she  drew  in  the  dress  over  the  hips 
and  loosened  it  at  the  throat.  "  You  have  really 
a  good  figure,  but  you  don't  know  it.  You  must 
be  coquette  before  you  can  be  a  woman.  In 
future  I  '11  keep  an  eye  on  you.  Where  do  you 
sleep?" 

"  In  the  cellar." 

"  I  thought  so.  Sleep  with  me  to-night,  then; 
there  's  room  enough.  All  right  now?  I  must  be 
going." 

Genevieve  caught  her  hand  and  covered  it 
with  kisses. 

"  There,  kiss  my  cheek,"  Nicole  said,  affected 
by  her  display  of  gratitude.  "  What  a  baby  ! 
You  shall  stay  with  me.  Until  to-night,  then." 

All  at  once  she  remembered  her  engagement, 
and  on  the  moment,  forgetting  the  new  partner- 
ship so  lightly  contracted,  she  hurried  away,  with 
such  good  will  that  she  arrived  exactly  on  time. 
As  this  was  not  to  her  liking,  she  screened  her- 
self in  the  crowd,  seeking  Barabant.  She  found 
him  soon,  approaching,  still  immersed  in  his  pro- 
jected article  and  betraying  his  preoccupation 
by  such  scowls  and  sudden  gestures  that  the 
passers-by  would  have  taken  him  for  demented 

40 


CITOYENNE  NICOLE 

had  not  the  spectacle  been  one  familiar  to  their 
eyes. 

"  Ah,  mon  Dieu  !  "  Nicole  said  to  herself,  "  I 
thought  I  'd  found  a  man,  and  he  turns  out  a 
philosopher. '  Also,  he  does  not  seem  very  much 
occupied  in  looking  for  me  ! " 

She  stepped  forward  to  meet  him,  saying  mis- 
chievously :  "  Well,  have  you  settled  the  affairs 
of  the  nation  *?  What  furor  on  an  empty  stomach, 
Citoyen  Eugene  ! " 

Barabant  returned  to  earth  quickly,  not  a  little 
ashamed  at  the  flights  of  his  imagination,  and 
his  laugh  betrayed  his  discomfiture  as  he  said : 

"  It  helps  one  to  forget  the  vacancy." 

Nicole  leading  the  way,  they  hurried  through 
the  thronged  streets,  scenting  at  every  step  the 
inviting  odor  of  soups  and  stews,  until  they 
arrived  at  a  large  tavern,  or  brasserie,  around 
which  was  a  thick  crowd  struggling  for  admission. 

"  Have  you  heard  of  Santerre  ?  "  Nicole  said. 
"  A  very  wise  man  who  has  discovered  that  the 
seat  of  popularity  lies  in  the  stomach." 

"  The  Romans  placed  all  the  affections  there." 

"  Ah,  you  've  had  an  education,"  Nicole  said, 
with  a  new  respect.  "  There  's  Santerre." 

Before  the  entrance  a  huge  mass  of  a  man, 
boisterous  in  his  hospitality  and  his  laughter, 
was  distributing  enormous  hand-shakes. 

41 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

Nicole  saluted  him  with  evident  familiarity. 

"  I  have  brought  you  a  patriot  to  dinner, 
citoyen ! " 

Santerre  winced  a  bit  and  grumbled : 

"Eh,  Nicole,  and  you  have  brought  yourself 
along." 

"  Vive  Santerre  ! "  the  girl  cried,  with  a  laugh. 
"  Citoyen  Barabant  has  just  arrived,  and  the  first 
thing  he  asked  was  to  see  the  famous  leader  of 
the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine." 

*'  At  lunch-time,  of  course,"  said  Santerre,  with 
a  shrug.  "  Pass  in  and  eat." 

Nicole  seized  Barabant  by  the  hand  and  en- 
tered the  restaurant,  already  crowded  with  the 
self-invited  guests  of  the  leader's  ready  hospi- 
tality. They  found  a  corner  table  and  settled 
down  to  a  quiet  inspection  of  the  noisy  room. 

Masons,  carters,  and  laborers  preponderated, 
while  a  smattering  of  young  lawyers  and  jour- 
nalists circulated  from  table  to  table,  with  ready 
hand-shakes,  to  take  up  the  conversation  or  clink 
a  glass  in  toasts  to  the  dozen  subjects  most  in 
favor.  Above  the  din  of  plates  and  cutlery, 
cutting  the  hum  of  voices,  the  toasts  emerged 
sharply. 

"  To  the  Bonnets  Rouges ! " 

"  To  the  good  Sans-Culottes ! " 

"  A  bas  les  Tyrans  !  " 
42 


CITOYENNE  NICOLE 

"  Vive  la  Constitution ! " 

"  Vive  Santerre  ! " 

"  Long  life  to  our  host ! " 

At  times  the  Carmagnole,  at  times  some  popu- 
lar ballad  of  the  day,  would  start  from  a  corner, 
and  gathering  headway,  would  gradually  run 
through  the  noise  of  the  room  until,  absorbing 
all  other  sounds,  it  ended  in  a  gale.  Where- 
upon there  would  be  a  clatter  of  knives  and 
glass,  shouts  of  "  Bravo ! "  laughter,  and  more 
drinking. 

Barabant  was  too  susceptible  a  nature  not  to 
respond  to  the  magnetism  of  such  surroundings. 
His  look  regained  all  its  ardor  of  the  morning, 
until  Nicole  regarded  him  with  a  new  interest. 
He  had  the  long,  narrow  forehead  of  the  period, 
marked  with  thoughtfulness  and  curiosity.  The 
nose  was  high-bridged,  the  nostrils  were  sensitive 
and  dilating  with  emotion.  The  gray  eyes  were 
shrewd,  kind,  gay,  and  noting,  with  the  mobility 
and  charm  of  the  enthusiast,  but,  in  their  repose, 
without  that  impress  of  authority  and  earnestness 
of  purpose  which  give  to  the  man  of  imagination 
the  genius  of  leadership. 

"  Come,  citoyen,"  Nicole  said,  at  the  end  of 
her  inspection,  "  tell  me  something  about  your- 
self. I  am  filled  with  curiosity." 

"  Ma  foi,  Nicole,"  Barabant  answered,  "  it 's 

43 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

not  much.  I  was  at  Fontainebleau  ;  I  'm  now  in 
Paris.  I  had  an  uncle  who  disapproved  of  my 
ideas;  he  showed  me  the  door,  I  declared  his 
goods  confiscate,  and  here  I  am,  not  a  bit  de- 
pressed,—  with  but  one  debt,"  he  added  as  an 
afterthought. 

"  Debts  are  aristocratic ;  renounce  them." 

"  The  trouble  is,  I  can't  rid  myself  of  the 
creditor,  though  I  pay  him  over  and  over." 

Nicole  raised  her  glance  in  surprise,  but  Bara- 
bant  added,  smiling,  "  It  is  my  stomach,  and  a 
persistent  creditor  he  is." 

Nicole  laughed  gaily.  "  There,  touch  hands," 
she  cried.  "  You  are  the  philosopher."  Persist- 
ing in  her  inquiry,  she  continued  encouragingly  : 
"  You  have  a  father  *?  " 

Barabant  smiled.  "  And  a  mother,  too.  And 
now  no  more  questions,  Nicole,  for  I  shall  refuse 
them." 

She  drew  back  with  a  little  movement  of 
pique,  but  yielding  to  her  natural  moods,  she 
lifted  her  eyebrows  and,  with  her  charming 
smile,  said  with  frankness : 

"  Ah,  you  are  legitimate,  then.  I  have  only 
a  mother;  that  is  to  say,  I  had.  She  is  dead 
now.  I  don't  remember  her.  God  rest  her  soul." 

A  little  movement  of  superstition  passed  over 
her  face  and  she  crossed  herself.  "  My  father 

44 


CITOYENNE  NICOLE 

was  a  sergeant  of  the  line,  so  they  tell  me."  She 
threw  out  the  palms  of  her  hands.  "  Who 
knows  ?  It  might  as  well  be  a  rag-picker,  or  a 
prince,  for  all  the  good  it  does  me." 

"  Diable  ! "  Barabant  exclaimed,  regarding  her 
more  closely.  "You  don't  seem  to  be  cast 
down." 

"  Oh,  no ;  it 's  only  this  year  I  've  been  by 
myself.  I  was  brought  up  by  my  aunt — Aunt 
Berthe.  What  a  woman ! "  She  shook  her  head 
grimly.  "  When  I  came  in  late  she  beat  me, — 
oh,  but  solidly,  firmly."  She  grimaced  and, 
with  the  instinct  of  acting  that  is  of  the  people, 
drew  her  hand  across  her  shoulder,  as  though 
still  smarting  under  the  sting.  "And  do  you 
know  how  it  ended  *?  " 

"  Well,  how  ?  " 

"  It  ended  by  my  taking  the  cane  from  her 
one  night  and  laying  it  over  her.  Oh,  such  a 
beating !  I  was  striking  for  old  scores.  Aie ! 
a'ie !  After  that,  you  understand,  I  could  n't 
return." 

"  I  understand." 

"  So  I  took  a  room  next  to  Louison." 

Barabant  raised  his  eyebrows  in  question. 

"  Louison  *?  She  's  a  comrade.  You  will 
see  her."  She  stopped.  "  We  are  good  friends, 
only  I — well — I  don't  know."  Nicole,  who 

45 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

conversed  abundantly  with  her  shoulders,  raised 
them  again.  "  When  you  're  rich  you  can  choose ; 
but  with  us,  we  take  what 's  nearest.  We  must 
have  some  one  to  gossip  with,  to  weep  with,  to 
laugh  with,  to  confide  a  little  in,  and  so  we 
take  what  we  can  get.  That 's  how  it  is."  Sud- 
denly she  halted  suspiciously.  "Are  you  a 
patriot  ?  "  she  asked  point-blank. 

"  You  'd  have  thought  so  last  night."  Bara- 
bant,  remembering  the  drubbing  he  had  escaped 
the  night  before,  grinned  and  nodded.  At  his 
description  of  the  cafe  Nicole  showed  great 
interest. 

"^ou  said  that,  and  escaped  with  your  life 
from  that  den  of  aristocrats !"  she  exclaimed,  in 
horror,  for  she  had  the  popular  idea  that  aristo- 
crats were  ogres  and  inhuman  monsters.  At  the 
first  words  descriptive  of  his  rescue  she  cried: 

"  Dossonville;  beyond  a  doubt,  Dossonvitle  !  " 

"  What,  do  you  know  him  *?  "  said  Barabant. 
"  Who  and  what  is  he  ?  " 

"  Now  you  have  asked  me  a  question.  What 
is  Dossonville  ?  "  Suddenly  she  became  serious. 
"  He  is  a  mystery  to  me  and  to  more  than  me. 
Frankly,  I  do  not  know  his  party,  and  don't  be- 
lieve any  one  else  does.  He  is  here  and  there, 
with  the  patriots  one  moment  and  the  court  the 
next;  but  whether  he  is  acting  for  one  side  or 


CITOYENNE  NICOLE 

for  neither,  no  one  knows.  And  he  rescued 
you  ! "  She  meditated  a  moment.  "  That  sounds 
like  a  patriot;  but  then,  what  was  he  doing  in 
such  a  place  *?  " 

The  crowd  became  more  boisterous  as  the 
wine-jugs  grew  lighter;  seeing  which,  Nicole 
rose  and  made  a  sign  to  him  to  follow.  In  the 
front  room  she  stopped  before  a  vat  on  which, 
his  huge  body  astride,  Santerre  was  bandying  jests 
with  the  crowd.  Nicole,  approaching,  whispered : 

"  Is  it  for  to-night  ?  " 

The  brewer  affected  not  to  understand  her. 

"  Look  here,  my  big  fellow,"  she  said,  with  the 
familiarity  of  the  day,  "  do  you  want  me  to  cry 
it  from  the  housetops?  Will  you  understand 
me  now  *?  " 

"  I  don't  know  when  it  is  to  be,  or  if  it  will 
ever  be."  He  sank  his  voice.  "  The  leaders  are 
wavering ;  only  the  tocsin  can  tell." 

"We  assemble  by  sections'?" 

Santerre  nodded. 

Nicole,  only  half  satisfied,  turned  away. 

Barabant,  who  had  overheard  enough  to  form 
a  conjecture,  kept  his  counsel ;  but  Nicole,  ap- 
proving his  discretion,  imparted  the  information. 

"They  say  we  are  to  storm  the  Tuileries. 
But  every  one  hangs  back.  They  are  in  a  panic 
at  the  last  moment." 

47 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

"  Why,  it  is  folly ;  think  of  the  National 
Guard !  "  Barabant  exclaimed. 

"  I  see  well  you  have  just  arrived.  The  Na- 
tional Guard,  indeed !  We  are  the  National 
Guard.  It  is  only  the  Swiss  we  have  to  fear." 

They  had  gained  the  right  bank  of  the  Seine, 
and  paused  from  time  to  time  to  watch  the 
water-carriers  filling  their  casks  in  the  river,  and 
the  loiterers  angling  sleepily  in  the  shadow  of 
the  boats. 

Barabant,  despite  the  fires  of  patriotic  fervor, 
had  for  some  time  forgotten  his  mission  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  fresh  cheeks  and  the  free 
carriage  of  his  companion,  more  and  more  be- 
guiled from  his  task  of  righting  the  wrongs  of 
the  nation  by  this  gipsy  of  the  streets  who  trav- 
ersed the  rough  paths  of  fortune  with  such 
perfect  bonhomie. 

Nicole,  happening  to  look  up,  met  an  unmis- 
takable fixture  of  gaze,  and  divined  the  workings 
of  his  mind.  She  withdrew  slightly  and  said 
reprovingly :  "  Not  too  fast,  Citoyen  Barabant ; 
we  are  not  in  the  provinces." 

Barabant  defended  himself. 

"  My  dear  Nicole,  I  have  committed  no 
offense.  I  have  done  nothing  but  wish.  Judge 
my  acts ;  my  thoughts  are  not  offenses." 

"  You  are  not  slow  at  an  answer,  citoyen,"  said 

48 


CITOYENNE  NICOLE 

Nicole,  amused.  "  There,  take  my  hand  if  you 
wish.  Only,  not  too  fast." 

He  took  her  hand,  and  together  they  went 
joyfully  through  Paris,  laughing  like  two  children 
of  the  people. 

"  Barabant,  I  like  you,"  she  said  from  time  to 
time.  "  You  are  a  good  fellow."  Once  she 
added  naively,  "  You  know,  all  the  same,  it  is 
lonely  at  times."  Then,  with  a  laugh,  "  Aliens, 
comrade ! " 

She  led  him  through  the  boulevards,  pointing 
out  celebrities  at  every  step,  showing  him  the 
cafes,  Feuillantes  or  Jacobin.  They  were  con- 
stantly halted  by  the  sudden  assembly  of  a  crowd 
to  listen  to  some  singer  perched  on  a  chair  above 
their  shoulders,  intoning  his  ballads. 

Presently  Nicole  said:  "Barabant,  do  you  not 
feel  something  in  the  atmosphere — something 
extraordinary  *?  " 

He  sharpened  his  wits  and  gradually  began  to 
distinguish  currents  in  the  crowd,  and  it  seemed 
to  him  that  there  was  some  subtle  communica- 
tion by  furtive  glances  of  inquiry  and  nods  of 
intelligence. 

"  I  believe  it  will  be  for  to-night,"  she 
whispered. 

He  felt  in  her  hand  something  nervous  and 
exalted. 

49 


IN   THE   NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

"  Were  you  at  the  taking  of  the  Bastille  ?  "  he 
asked. 

*'  Yes.  Wait  till  you  see  the  women  of  Paris ! " 
Her  eyes  grew  large  as  they  lost  themselves  in 
recollection.  Then  suddenly  she  added  :  "  But 
you  have  n't  seen  the  gardens  of  the  Palais  Royal, 
and  the  tree  of  the  green  cockades  from  which 
Desmoulins  called  us  to  arms  !  " 

Leading  him  into  the  historic  garden,  she 
showed  him  the  chestnut-tree  surrounded  by  a 
crowd  of  curious  seekers,  many  of  whom  snatched 
up  the  leaves  for  mementos. 

Everywhere  were  swarms  of  children,  shriek- 
ing high,  shrill  notes,  running  and  leaping,  dodg- 
ing in  and  out  of  the  most  sedate  groups,  and 
stopping  occasionally  to  mimic  the  swollen  front 
and  bombastic  arm  of  the  hundred  and  one 
orators  about  whom  swirled  a  hundred  and  one 
eddies.  Newsboys,  racing  ahead  of  their  com- 
petitors, cried  hoarsely  the  latest  bulletins ;  while 
in  their  wake  improvised  orators  mounted  on 
tables  and  announced  the  news  amid  a  gale  of 
comments.  Through  the  throng  a  score  of  flower- 
girls  twisted  their  way,  calling  their  patriotic  cock- 
ades, nodding  familiarly  to  Nicole,  who  from  all 
sides  received  salutations  of  deputies  and  orators. 

"You  are  well  known,"  said  Barabant,  sur- 
prised at  the  range  of  her  acquaintance. 

50 


CITOYENNE  NICOLE 

"  Pardi,  I  should  hope  so,"  she  answered,  with 
a  proud  toss  of  her  head.  "  Bouquetieres  are 
useful.  We  go  everywhere,  see  everything. 
We  are  the  scouts  of  the  Republic.  I  have 
influence,  Barabant;  I  '11  push  you  ahead,"  she 
added,  with  a  determined  nod.  "  Can  you  speak 
from  the  tribune  *?  " 

"  I  have  done  so." 

"Good.  You  must  "go  to  the  club.  Speak 
out.  Do  not  be  afraid.  I  adore  fire  and  spirit ! " 
She  looked  at  him  critically.  "  You  have  the 
eyes  and  the  lips  of  the  orator.  Yes,  I  'm  sure 
you  can  speak." 

Barabant  thrilled  at  the  inspiration  in  her  eyes, 
and  some  of  the  fierce,  exulting  spirit,  the  uncon- 
querable gaiety  and  daring  of  this  gamine,  passed 
swiftly  into  his  soul.  Filled  with  the  bombastic 
daring  and  sublime  confidence  of  the  patriot, 
he  cried :  "  Give  me  the  chance ;  give  but  the 
chance  !  They  shall  hear  me  —  and  listen ! " 

Nicole  had  a  wild  impulse  to  embrace  him, 
but,  restraining  her  enthusiasm,  she  contented 
herself  with  passing  from  his  hand  to  his  arm. 

"  How  old  are  you  *?  "  she  asked  all  at  once. 

"  I  am  twenty-four,"  Barabant  said,  with  im- 
portance. 

"  Why,  you  are  a  child." 

"  Camille  Desmoulins  is  not  thirty." 

51 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"  True." 

"  And  what  is  six  years  *?  " 

"I  had  n't  thought  of  it,"  admitted  Nicole. 
"  I  am  eighteen ;  but  in  Paris  at  eighteen  there 
is  not  much  unlearned.  Aliens,  les  enfants."  She 
drew  up  to  his  side,  hanging  a  little  on  his  arm. 
"  Barabant,  you  are  a  lucky  fellow,"  she  said  mis- 
chievously. 

Barabant,  who  perfectly  understood  her  allu- 
sion to  mean  lucky  in  meeting  her,  drew  her 
closer  as  they  elbowed  their  way  out  of  the 
throng.  He  bent  his  head  to  scrutinize  her,  while 
Nicole  not  too  consciously  accepted  the  gaze, 
confident  in  herself:  she  was  young  and  she 
was  a  Parisian.  Her  features  were  rather  saucy 
than  regular;  her  figure,  though  full  and  graceful, 
was  perhaps  too  perfect  for  eighteen,  when  a 
certain  slenderness  is  a  future  guaranty.  But 
the  eyes  of  the  young  man  do  not  look  into  the 
future.  Barabant  saw  only — giving  color  to  her 
cheeks,  a  glow  to  the  eye,  and  a  spring  to  the  foot 
—  that  bloom  which  is  of  youth  and  which  speaks 
of  eagerness  and  impatience  to  embrace  life. 

Suddenly  Nicole,  seeking  an  interruption  to 
this  scrutiny,  which,  though  delightful,  had  be- 
come embarrassing,  exclaimed,  "There 's  Louison 
now."  She  made  a  movement  as  though  to  free 
her  arm,  immediately  checking  it. 


CITOYENNE   NICOLE 

Barabant,  looking  up,  beheld  the  high  eye- 
brows, the  starting  eyes,  and  the  curious,  thin 
smile  of  the  flower-girl  who  had  spoken  to  him 
the  night  before. 

She  sent  Nicole  a  greeting  from  her  finger- 
tips, and  then  perceiving  Barabant,  she  accosted 
him  with  a  smile  of  tolerant  amusement. 

"  Why,  it 's  my  little  man  from  the  country ! " 
Nodding,  she  passed,  with  the  exclamation,  "Bien 
vrai,  you  don't  lose  any  time ! " 

"  What,  you  have  already  met  her  *?  "  Nicole 
exclaimed,  disengaging  her  arm,  suddenly  quieted 
and  sobered. 

"  In  the  Rue  St.  Honore",  last  night." 

A  frown,  swift  as  a  thunderbolt,  passed  over 
Nicole's  forehead.  She  stopped,  extended  her 
hand,  and  said  curtly,  "  I  must  go ;  good  day." 

Barabant  looked  at  her  in  dismay. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  What  have  I  done  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head,  and  without  further  ex- 
planation disappeared. 


53 


IV 

BREWINGS    OF    THE    STORM 

WHEN  Barabant  had  groped  his  way  up 
the  tortuous  ascent,  he  was  surprised  to 
find  his  door  open,  sending  a  feeble  glow  over 
the  remainder  of  his  journey.  He  crossed  the 
threshold  on  tiptoe,  and,  to  his  amazement,  beheld 
a  man,  in  the  uniform  of  the  National  Guard, 
stretched  out  upon  his  bed,  and  two  lank  legs 
that,  over-lapping,  were  perched  on  the  foot- 
boards. He  came  forward,  advanced  another 
step,  and  recognized  Dossonville. 

Barabant,  believing  him  to  be  shamming,  went 
softly  to  the  farther  corner  and  installed  himself 
to  wait.  But  the  steady,  tranquil  breathing  of 
the  sleeper  soon  convinced  him.  With  a  sudden 
inspiration,  he  stole  to  the  threshold,  grasping  the 
handle  of  the  door.  The  next  moment  there 
thundered  upon  the  slumberer  the  cry : 

"  Arrest  him  !     The  aristocrat !  " 

As  though  propelled  from  a  catapult,  the  lank 
form  in  one  bound  shot  over  the  end  of  the 

54 


BREWINGS   OF   THE   STORM 

bed,  threw  two  chairs  in  front  of  him  as  a  ram- 
part, snatched  out  his  sword,  and  beheld,  in  this 
bellicose  posture,  no  horrid  band  of  Jacobins, 
but  the  lithe  figure  of  Barabant,  laughing  silently, 
with  folded  arms. 

"  Tonnerre  de  Dieu  !    Why  did  you  do  that  *?  " 

Dossonville  returned  the  sword  to  the  scabbard, 
pushed  aside  the  rampart,  and  extended  his 
hand,  saying,  "  I  was  asleep;  serves  me  right;  but 
you  have  a  rude  manner  of  jesting." 

"  I  did  not  suspect  your  conscience  was  so 
uneasy,"  Barabant  said,  retaining  the  quizzical 
smile. 

"  Oho ! " 

With  his  lips  in  this  startled  oval,  Dossonville 
halted.  His  eyes  contracted  into  slits  as  he  said 
dryly,  "  So  that  was  a  ruse." 

"If  you  like." 

"  Hello !  it  was  well  conceived.  Tiens,  tiens, 
tiens ! "  His  eyes  continued  their  scrutiny.  "  I 
have,  perhaps,  not  done  justice  to  your  acumen. 
My  compliments  and  my  excuses." 

He  swung  his  bonnet  in  a  long,  awkward, 
trailing  swoop  across  his  feet.  Barabant  executed 
a  bow  of  equal  assurance. 

Dossonville  returned  to  uprightness  with  a 
snap  of  his  heels,  and  a  certain  asperity  rang  in 
the  next  question. 

55 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

"And  why  did  you  deem  the  experiment 
necessary  ?  " 

"Before  intrusting  my  safety  I  prefer  to  re- 
assure myself." 

"You  saw  that  at  the  cry  of  'aristocrats'  I 
sprang  to  my  guard." 

"  I  said  '  the  aristocrat.' " 

"  I  understood,  '  Arrest  him,  aristocrats ! ' ' 

The  two  men,  Dossonville  cool,  Barabant 
amused,  measured  looks,  until,  dismissing  the 
subject  with  a  motion  of  his  arm,  Dossonville 
seated  himself. 

"  Well,  what  do  they  say  of  me  ?  " 

Barabant,  who  did  not  intend  to  surrender  his 
vantage,  straddled  his  chair,  rested  his  arms  on 
the  back,  and,  looking  him  magisterially  in  coun- 
tenance, answered: 

"  Citoyen  Dossonville,  you  seem  to  be  a  mys- 
tery. No  one  knows  where  to  place  you.  You 
consort  with  patriots  and  traitors  alike." 

Dossonville,  facing  this  accusation,  appeared 
to  reflect  a  moment. 

"That's  true.  I  do  not  hide  it  —  from  pa- 
triots." His  voice  gave  a  meaning  inflection  to 
the  ending ;  then  he  added,  irritably :  "  There  are 
more  ways  than  one  of  serving  the  nation.  I 
repeat,  leave  me  mine."  He  broke  off.  "  Have 
you  written  anything  *?  Give  it  to  me." 

56 


BREWINGS   OF   THE   STORM 

Barabant  extended  the  precious  manuscript. 
He  took  it,  but  before  spreading  it  upon  his 
knee,  he  said :  "  After  all,  you  are  right.  I  have 
a  way  to  convince  you.  You  shall  see.  But 
first  for  this." 

He  began  to  read,  with  approval.  "Good — 
good  " ;  "  very  good  " ;  "  excellent." 

At  the  end  he  brought  his  hand  down  upon 
his  knee  with  a  slap.  "  Tonnerre  de  Dieu,  that 
is  well  put ! " 

Barabant,  who  was  soaring  in  the  seventh 
heaven,  made  a  superhuman  effort  and  forced 
back  a  smile.  Dossonville,  much  amused, 
tapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"Come,  it  is  not  a  crime  to  be  pleased  with 
one's  self." 

"  You  think  it  will  do  *?  "  Barabant  stammered. 

"Splendid!  And  now  to  convince  this  sus- 
picious republican."  He  eyed  him  a  moment, 
enjoying  the  surprise  his  next  words  would 
cause.  "  Suppose  you  return  with  me  to  San- 
terre." 

Barabant,  astounded  at  this  acquaintance  with 
his  doings,  dropped  his  jaw. 

"  So,  do  you  think  I  would  employ  you  with- 
out some  knowledge  of  your  actions'?"  He 
enjoyed  for  a  moment  Barabant's  embarrassment. 
"Come,  and  Santerre  shall  reassure  you."  At 

57 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

the  door  he  paused,  cast  a  rapid  glance  at  the 
impoverished  fittings,  and  drew  out  his  purse. 
"  Republican  or  not,  the  essential  thing  is  to 
dine."  Then  evading  the  young  fellow's  thanks, 
he  led  the  way  into  the  city. 

It  was  now  toward  twilight.  The  streets 
were  choked  with  laborers  returning  home.  In 
the  air  was  an  unwonted  stir,  a  muttering,  defiant 
and  eager,  as  the  crowd  discussed  openly,  with 
impassioned  questions,  the  prospective  attack  on 
the  Tuileries. 

"  It  is  for  to-night,  sure  *?  " 

"  For  to-night,  yes,  at  the  tocsin." 

"  It  's  true,  is  it,  the  National  Guards  are 
coming  over?" 

"  They  've  armed  the  Marseillais." 

"Who?" 

"  Petion." 

"  Vive  Petion  !  " 

Hundreds  of  National  Guards  fraternized  with 
the  crowd,  reassuring  them.  Occasionally  was 
to  be  seen  the  glimmer  of  a  weapon,  a  scythe,  a 
cutlass,  or  a  half-concealed  dagger.  Questioners 
stopped  them  from  time  to  time. 

"  Is  it  true,  we  are  to  attack  to-night  *?  " 

Dossonville  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  If  the  tocsin  sounds  you  are.  That  is  all  I 
know." 

58 


BREWINGS   OF   THE   STORM 

From  time  to  time  there  were  new  accessions 
in  the  streets ;  until,  as  the  two  approached  the 
Rue  St.  Antoine,  they  were  forced  to  beg  their 
way  at  every  step. 

Dossonville,  his  head  flung  back,  reviewed  the 
throng  from  his  great  height. 

"  What  a  people !  Is  there  anything  they 
will  not  dare  *?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Brave  people  ! 
Sublime  people ! " 

They  passed  through  a  side  street,  deserted 
except  for  some  straggler  hastening  toward  the 
human  torrent.  Dossonville,  in  a  burst  of  confi- 
dence, laid  his  hand  on  his  companion's  shoulder. 

"  That  was  good  to  see.  I,  Citoyen  Barabant — 
I  take  nothing  seriously.  Men,  individuals,  are 
but  blind  little  animals  wriggling  for  a  day 
or  so.  I  have  seen  too  much  of  selfishness, 
of  wickedness,  of  deceits  and  hypocrisy,  to  be 
moved  by  human  motives.  Nothing  really 
matters,  nothing  is  serious.  But  when  I  see 
such  a  sight  as  that,  a  whole  people  rising  with 
one  accord,  ah,  then  that  thrills  me;  yes,  I  am 
moved ! " 

Barabant  was  silent,  more  perplexed  concern- 
ing his  companion  than  ever,  and  in  this  reflec- 
tive mood  he  persevered,  resolving  to  be  on  his 
watch  for  artifices  and  tricks.  About  the  bras- 
serie of  the  famous  brewer  the  throng  was  massed 

59 


IN   THE   NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

so  tightly  that  the  two  companions  would  have 
stuck  thirty  feet  away,  unable  to  turn,  had  not 
Santerre,  from  an  upper  window,  perceived  the 
lanky  form  of  Dossonville.  The  moment  his  eye 
fell  upon  that  appealing  figure,  he  started  up,  as 
though  awaiting  him,  and  hurrying  down-stairs, 
appeared  at  the  entrance,  where,  by  dint  of 
command  and  abuse,  he  managed  to  open  a 
passage,  through  which  the  crowd  disgorged 
them. 

Barabant,  at  a  nod  from  Dossonville,  remained 
in  an  anteroom  listening  to  the  compressed 
rumble  of  the  crowd,  that  reached  him  through 
the  open  window  on  the  warm,  suffocating  air. 
He  did  not  have  long  to  wait.  Santerre  soon 
reappeared,  excited  and  red  with  the  emotion 
communicated  to  his  fleshy  head.  Dossonville, 
more  tranquil,  called  him  to  them. 

"  I  must  take  a  message  to  the  Bonnet  Rouge," 
he  said.  "  It  is  urgent.  So  I  must  leave 
you — only,  I  do  not  forget."  He  glanced  at 
him,  adding  slyly :  "  Is  there  anything  you  care 
to  ask  of  the  Citoyen  Santerre  ?  " 

Barabant,  gulping  down  his  confusion,  cried : 
"  Nothing." 

"  Good.  Then  you  are  no  longer  afraid  you 
are  dealing  with  an  agent  of  the  perfidious 
Pitt  ?  " 

60 


BREWINGS   OF   THE   STORM 

Barabant  seized  the  occasion  to  vanish  through 
the  side  exit,  carrying  with  him  the  memory  of  a 
chuckle. 

Nicole  no  sooner  had  dismissed  Barabant  than 
she  regretted  the  act.  Her  intuition  had  warned 
her  that  caprice  was  necessary  to  counteract  her 
bonhomie,  which  might  have  produced  in  the 
young  man  an  assurance  of  facile  conquest.  But, 
left  to  her  own  devices,  to  her  astonishment  she 
found  the  solitude  oppressive.  She  made  an 
effort  to  dispel  the  ennui  by  seeking  Goursac ;  but 
no  sooner  had  she  perceived  him  than,  apprehend- 
ing the  banter  in  which  he  was  privileged  to  in- 
dulge, she  halted  and  then  turned  away. 

Toward  evening,  according  to  her  custom,  she 
joined  Louison  in  search  of  supper. 

"  What  have  you  done  with  your  com- 
panion ?  "  the  girl  asked  at  once. 

"  I  dismissed  him  long  ago,"  Nicole  answered 
carelessly:  from  that  quarter  she  welcomed  at- 
tack. "  A  man  interferes  with  the  business." 

"  How  did  you  meet  him  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  knew  !  He  has  taken 
the  room  across  from  us ! " 

"Ah,  indeed.  He  seems  interesting."  She 
took  her  companion's  arm  and  said  abruptly,  "  I 
have  taken  a  fancy  to  him,  so  garde  a  toi ! " 

61 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

Nicole,  not  certain  whether  she  spoke  in  jest 
or  in  earnest,  abandoned  uneasily  the  conversa- 
tion, saying,  "  Where  do  we  dine  to-night  ?  " 

"  At  the  Bonnet  Rouge." 

"  Why  there  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  rendezvous  for  the  Marseillais.  If 
there  is  to  be  an  attack,  we  '11  have  the  news." 

"  Do  you  think  it  will  be  for  to-night  ?  " 

"Yes;  there  is  something  in  the  air  that 
makes  me  think  so." 

Their  way  soon  involved  them  in  a  network 
of  dusky,  gaping  streets.  On  each  side  somber 
walls,  peopled  with  dim,  curious  flecks  of  head- 
gear, strained  upward  and  back  in  a  bulging 
effort  to  draw  down  a  little  more  of  the  allotted 
strip  of  sky.  The  windows  of  taverns,  on  the 
ground  floor,  were  beginning  to  redden  and  to 
cast  faint  streaks  across  the  black,  oozing  streets  ; 
but  the  frugal  inhabitants  of  upper  stories,  in 
deference  to  the  price  of  candles,  still  hung  on 
the  sills,  causing  the  evening  to  resound  with 
the  nervous  chatter  of  window-to-window  specu- 
lation. 

At  times  the  tension  of  conjecture  and  discus- 
sion would  be  broken  by  the  bass  voice  of  a 
passing  laborer  thundering  forth, 

"9aira!     £a  ira!     ^aira!"' 
62 


BREWINGS   OF   THE  STORM 

Above  the  soprano  of  women's  voices  and  the 
thin  piping  of  children  responded  feverishly : 

"La  liberte  s'etablira: 
Malgre  les  tyrans  tout  reussira!" 

They  found  the  cabaret  beginning  to  fill  up 
by  twos  and  threes — workingmen  for  the  most 
part :  water-carriers  divesting  themselves  of  their 
barrels  at  the  door  with  a  sigh  of  contentment; 
wood-carriers,  with  relaxed  limbs,  slipping  grate- 
fully into  the  hard  wooden  benches ;  women  of 
the  markets,  corpulent,  quick-tongued,  smelling 
of  onion  and  garlic ;  erstwhile  actors  still  with  the 
strut  of  the  stage  ;  an  occasional  bourgeois  in  mis- 
fortune; a  handful  of  gamins,  impudent  and  witty 
— all  discussing  feverishly  the  projected  attack. 

The  two  girls,  perceiving  the  congestion  in 
the  outer  room,  elbowed  their  way  to  where,  by 
an  inner  door,  a  waiter  of  exceptional  but  broken 
height  was  scanning  the  crowd  with  an  eye  to 
orders. 

"  Well,  Citoyen  Boudgoust,  what  news  ?  " 

At  Louison's  question,  he  showed  the  palms 
of  his  hands,  finally  volunteering: 

"  Santerre  is  to  send  us  word." 

"  There  's  room  beyond  ?  " 

"  You  are  going  to  eat  *?  " 

"  Of  course,"  Louison  said  impatiently,  as  he 

63 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

barred  the  way.  "  Besides,  mon  ami,  don't  you 
think  we  know  what 's  going  on  *?  " 

He  allowed  them  to  pass,  grumbling,  "  Every 
one  comes  to  talk ;  no  one  to  eat." 

In  the  farther  hall  the  crowd  was  thinner  and 
composed  mostly  of  Marseillais  and  the  National 
Guard,  who  looked  up  furtively,  until  half  a 
dozen  greetings  removed  their  suspicions. 

"  Good  evening,  Citoyenne  Nicole." 

In  her  astonishment,  she  turned  to  find  Gene- 
vieve. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  child?  "  she  cried. 

"  I  am  listening." 

"  You  are  no  longer  afraid  *? " 

"  We  are  to  attack,"  the  girl  said  proudly,  and 
her  eyes  snapped  with  defiant  ardor. 

"  Bravo,  little  one ! "  laughed  Nicole.  "  Sit  with 
us,  then." 

She  turned  to  Louison  in  explanation. 

"  She  is  my  protegee  who  is  coming  to  me 
for  lessons." 

Louison  nodded  without  surprise  and  turned 
her  slow,  restrained  gaze  on  the  room,  while  the 
eyes  of  Nicole,  full  of  enthusiasm,  leaped  from 
group  to  group  in  rapid,  eager  scrutiny,  resting 
finally  on  a  knot  of  Marseillais  near  by.  One 
man  dominated  these  uncouth,  bristling,  living 
arsenals  —  a  squat  figure,  sprawling  under  the 


BREWINGS   OF   THE   STORM 

grotesque  shadows  of  the  lamp,  which  further 
distorted  his  huge  bulk  and  bullet  head.  One 
ungainly,  crooked  hand  leaned  in  ponderous  sup- 
port upon  the  table;  the  other  was  flourished 
above  him  in  frantic  gestures,  magnetic,  ab- 
surd, comic,  and  terrible,  as  he  harangued  his 
comrades,  who  acclaimed  his  exhortations  with 
shouts  that  burst  above  the  ceaseless  roar  of  the 
room. 

**  They  are  not  very  coquette,"  Nicole  said 
critically,  "  and  not  very  clean." 

"  Ah,  but  think  how  they  have  marched,  all 
the  way  from  Marseilles!"  Genevieve  cried,  in 
protest. 

"  You  know  them,  then  ? "  Nicole  asked,  as- 
tonished at  this  side  of  the  girl. 

"  Yes." 

"  And  that  bear  of  a  man  in  the  center,  do  you 
know  his  name  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  with  a  slight  disconcer- 
tion. "  He  is  the  Citoyen  Javogues." 

"He  looks  like  an  ogre." 

"  Wait  till  you  hear  him." 

"  Really ! "  answered  Nicole,  with  a  smile 
which  threw  the  girl  into  confusion. 

At  this  moment  a  rumble  reached  them  from 
the  outer  room.  Boudgoust,  profoundly  dejected, 
appeared,  followed  by  the  insouciant  figure  of 
5  65 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

Dossonville.  Instantly  the  room  was  filled  with 
cries. 

"  What  news  ?  " 

"  What  news  from  Santerre  *?  " 

"  We  attack  ?  " 

"  For  to-night  ?  " 

Dossonville,  facing  the  eager,  breathless  gal- 
lery, shrugged  his  shoulders,  uttering  but  one 
word : 

"  Postponed." 

A  roar  of  rage  and  disappointment  drowned 
his  voice. 

"  Citoyens ! "  he  cried,  "  I  am  but  announcing 
the  decision ;  I  did  not  make  it.  The  tyrants  are 
intrenched.  Mandat  is  in  ambush  at  the  Pont 
Neuf  and  the  Arcade  St.  Jean.  The  leaders  have 
decided  the  moment  is  unfavorable." 

The  storm  of  protests  increased. 

"  More  delay !     Enough  of  waiting ! " 

"  Mon  Dieu,  we  are  not  cowards ! " 

"  And  the  Prussians  ?  " 

"  He,  yes,  are  we  to  wait  for  the  foreign 
bandits?" 

"  Javogues !  Javogues ! " 

"  Javogues,  lead  us ! " 

**  Lead  us,  Javogues ! " 

Nicole  felt  through  the  child  at  her  side  a 
sudden  trembling  and  drawing  of  breath.  Then 

66 


into  the  center  of  the  suddenly  quiet  room 
lurched  the  squat  figure,  bareheaded,  bare-armed, 
bare-chested  but  for  a  tattered  shirt  He  seemed 
rooted  to  the  floor,  like  a  mound  transformed  to 
human  shape,  quivering  in  the  primeval  mold 
and  passions. 

"  Well,  yes,  I  '11  lead  you !  "  The  huge  fist, 
describing  a  circle,  crashed  upon  a  table. 
"  We  're  here  to  fight.  We  '11  wait  no  longer. 
Hesitate  and  bandy  words  and  deliberate  who- 
ever wants — we  are  not  such  !  We  have  suffered 
and  ached.  We  have  been  crushed  to  the  ground, 
saddled  to  the  earth, — we,  human  beings,  like 
cattle,  and  we  remember  our  wrongs.  Fear? 
Neither  God  nor  men  do  we  fear.  We  came 
here,  we,  marching  from  Marseilles, — all  the  way 
from  Marseilles, —  to  wipe  out  the  accursed 
tyrants,  to  make  things  go  faster,  and,  by  God, 
they  shall  go ! " 

Nicole  saw  the  hideous  face  transformed,  lighted 
up  with  the  glow  of  martyrdom.  From  lungs  of 
leather  there  burst  a  welcoming  response.  Dos- 
sonville,  facing  the  fanatic  without  a  change  of 
position,  waited  imperturbably  the  lull.  Gene- 
vieve  was  breathing  hard,  in  her  excitement 
seizing  the  hand  of  her  protectress. 

"  Bravo,  patriot,  you  are  eloquent ! "  came  at 
last  the  calm  answer  of  Dossonville.  "  But  what 

67 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

can  you  do?  March  and  be  made  into  beef- 
steaks ?  The  people,  it  is  true,  are  hungry,  but 
not  a  step  will  the  sections  move  without  San- 
terre.  Will  you  march  alone?  What  say 
you  ?  " 

"  I  say  they  are  traitors  who  would  halt  us ! " 
burst  forth  Javogues,  glancing  at  the  man  who 
dared  to  jest  with  him. 

"  Meaning  Santerre  ? " 

"Meaning  those  who  bear  false  messages.  I 
don't  like  these  manners.  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  My  friend,"  Dossonville  said,  with  cool  scorn 
of  the  threatening  throng,  "  you  are  curious." 

"  Aristocrat ! " 

"Am  I?" 

"  I  say  you  are ! " 

"  Indeed ! " 

"  You  will  not  answer  ?  " 

"  Certainly !  Citoyen  Dossonville,  at  present 
lieutenant  of  the  Section  des  Bonnes  Nouvelles, 
in  the  past  soldier,  sailor,  actor,  innkeeper,  a  bit 
of  everything  except  the  law  and  the  church. 
Citoyen  Boudgoust,"  he  continued,  shifting  his 
head  just  enough  to  bring  into  range  the  apathetic 
waiter,  "  before  this  fire-eater  is  at  my  throat,  come, 
vouch  for  me  ! " 

The  hang-down  head  wabbled  a  moment  on 
the  bent  shoulders. 

68 


BREWINGS   OF   THE  STORM 

"  Yes,  yes,  a  good  patriot,  Citoyen  Javogues, 
and  an  eater  of  little  aristocrats." 

"As  all  good  patriots  should  be!"  retorted 
Dossonville,  gravely.  "  There,  citoyen,  good  pa- 
triots should  not  quarrel  when  there  are  so  many 
tyrants  to  be  digested.  There  is  my  hand  — 
touch ! " 

Javogues  stared  at  the  proffered  hand  a  mo- 
ment stolidly,  drunkenly,  then  deliberately  folded 
his  arms.  A  murmur  of  dissent  gathered  volume. 

"  Comrade,  you  are  wrong ! " 

"  Give  him  your  hand ! " 

"  Aye,  touch  together ! " 

Above  the  outburst  the  voice  of  Dossonville 
rose  acridly. 

"  Dame !  mon  ami,  you  bring  strange  manners 
from  Marseilles." 

"  I  bring  something  else." 

"  And  that  is  —  " 

"•The  way  to  tell  a  traitor." 

"  And  that  is  —  " 

"  By  the  look  in  his  eyes  ! "  Raising  his  fist, 
the  Marseillais  lurched  forward  with  the  angry 
shout  of  "  Spy ! " 

A  dozen  men  rushed  to  separate  them,  while 
the  Marseillais,  echoing  the  accusation  of  their 
leader,  surged  furiously  forward.  Louison  and 
Nicole,  with  a  common  impulse,  seized  Dosson- 

69 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

ville,  and  in  the  confusion  drew  him  into  the 
hall  and  out  by  a  rear  entrance  into  the  cool  of 
the  night. 

"  Thanks,  my  dears ! "  he  cried,  once  free  of 
the  turmoil,  nonchalant  and  flippant  as  ever. 
"  It  is  always  difficult  to  find  the  right  word  on 
which  to  retreat  with  dignity.  You  saved  me 
the  trouble.  What!  it  is  you,  Louison  and  Ni- 
cole ?  Diable  !  if  it  were  only  one  I  could  offer 
my  eternal  devotion  —  for  a  week." 

"Citoyen,"  cried  Nicole,  reprovingly,  "you 
were  wrong  to  bait  him.  You  have  gained  an 
enemy." 

"On  the  contrary,"  Louison  interposed,  and 
strangely  on  her  cold  face  there  was  a  flash  of 
admiration.  "Citoyen  Dossonville,  you  were 
splendid ! " 

"  No,  I  was  a  fool,"  he  said.  "  It  is  very  stupid 
that  some  men  must  be  at  each  other's  throats 
from  the  first  glance.  Diable !  I  have  a  feeling 
this  fellow  will  bother  me  some  day.  However, 
it  will  add  a  little  interest  to  these  quiet  times. 
Au  revoir  —  I  must  be  off.  If  I  stay  I  shall  be 
falling  in  love  with  both  of  you.  What  good 
would  that  do"?  Thanks,  and  good  night!" 

In  the  distance  his  footsteps  grew  faint,  while 
for  a  time  the  gay  chorus  of  the  Carmagnole  told 
of  his  passage. 

70 


BREWINGS   OF   THE   STORM 

Nicole,  leaving  Louison,  sought  Genevieve, 
and,  with  a  desire  to  reconnoiter,  struck  out 
through  the  now  quiet  Faubourg  toward  the 
Hotel  de  Ville.  There,  all  was  animation  with 
the  arrival  of  the  delegates  from  the  forty-eight 
sections,  assembling  to  deliberate  upon  a  plan  of 
action,  while  from  time  to  time  messengers  passed 
like  streaks  down  the  steps  and  across  the  crowd, 
leaving  the  disturbance  of  their  trail  on  the 
surface. 

They  passed  along  the  Seine,  where  the  river, 
as  though,  too,  at  the  end  of  the  day  it  sought 
its  rest,  lay  still  and  black,  shot  across  with  faint 
reflections.  They  arrived  at  the  Tuileries  only 
to  be  barred  passage  by  a  patrol.  Everywhere 
as  they  made  the  rounds  they  found  the  palace 
guarded  and  prepared ;  while  a  hundred  other 
scouts  passed  ceaselessly  to  and  fro,  examining 
the  frowning  walls,  grim  in  the  shadow  of  night. 

A  dozen  rumors  were  current :  the  palace  was 
filled  with  Swiss  and  Chevaliers  du  Poignard; 
there  were  cannons  masked  at  every  point;  the 
windows  were  protected  with  screens  of  oak; 
the  court  were  dancing  inside,  drinking  to  the 
white  cockades,  as  they  had  done  at  Versailles. 
Others  affirmed  that  the  city  was  to  be  set  on 
fire  from  the  four  quarters;  that  the  king  had 
fled;  that  the  National  Assembly  was  to  be 

71 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

arrested.  Nicole,  her  curiosity  satisfied  and 
wearying  of  these  wild  rumors,  returned  home. 
At  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine  they  found  every- 
thing tranquil,  and  retired  for  the  night.  It  was 
then  half-past  ten. 

In  their  room  Genevieve  hazarded  the  question 
for  which  Nicole  had  waited  with  amused 
patience. 

"  Tell  me,  ^Nicole,  what  did  you  think  of 
him?" 

"Of  whom4?" 

"Of  the  Citoyen  Javogues.  Was  I  not 
right?" 

"  He  frightens  me,"  Nicole  said  frankly.  "  He 
had  the  air  of  a  butcher — a  madman.  Well, 
how  shall  I  express  it  *?  He  made  me  tremble, 
almost  with  a  premonition  of  danger." 

"  Ah,  you  cannot  understand  him,"  Genevieve 
protested.  "  To  me  he  is  heroic ! " 

"  What  a  little  Jacobin ! "  Nicole  said,  with  a 
smile.  Without  attaching  further  importance  to 
what  she  considered  the  whim  of  a  child,  she 
added:  "Well,  mon  enfant,  here  is  your  room. 
The  half  of  it  is  yours  for  as  long  as  you  want  it." 

She  passed  to  the  window,  casting  a  longing 
glance  at  the  dark  window  opposite.  Surprised 
at  Genevieve's  silence,  she  turned,  a  little  pro- 
voked. The  child  was  crying. 

72 


BREWINGS   OF   THE   STORM 

"  Dear  Genevieve  !  "  she  cried,  springing  to 
her  side  and  taking  her  in  her  arms.  "Don't 
try  to  thank  me  ;  I  understand." 

But  the  girl,  through  her  sobs,  murmured 
again  and  again,  "  Thank  you,  ah,  thank  you !  " 

"  But  it  is  I  who  am  thankful,"  Nicole  pro- 
tested. "  You  bring  me  something  to  love  and 
to  care  for.  I  was  getting  used  to  solitude,  which 
is  dangerous." 

Checking  her  thanks,  she  snuffed  the  candle, 
stretching  out  upon  the  bed  beside  the  girl. 

"  Yes,  it  is  bad  for  one  to  be  always  alone,"  she 
said. 

Genevieve  timidly  covered  her  hands  with 
kisses. 

"  No,  no,  kiss  me  on  the  cheek,"  Nicole  said. 
"  And  now,  if  you  are  going  to  obey,  go  right 
to  sleep." 

The  child  nestled  closer,  drawing  Nicole's 
arm  about  her.  The  embrace  seemed  strange 
to  Nicole,  and,  without  quite  understanding  why, 
she  sought  to  draw  her  arm  away. 


73 


THE    TAKING    OF    THE    TUILERIES 

BOOM !  Boom ! 
All  at  once  Nicole  and  Genevieve  found 
themselves  on  their  feet  in  the  middle  of  the  dark 
room.  Through  the  open  window  there  fell 
upon  their  ears  a  wild  metal  shriek,  hoarse,  furi- 
ous, angry,  that  spoke  of  fire  and  of  the  dungeon 
— the  boom  of  the  tocsin. 

Boom !     Boom  !     Boom !     Boom ! 

Nicole  bounded  to  the  window.  Below  she 
beheld  startled  heads  in  white  night-caps  scat- 
tered down  the  length  of  the  walls.  As  one 
dog  wakes  the  pack,  another  and  another  bell 
took  up  the  call,  till  from  every  point  of  the 
horizon  broke  forth  the  jangle  and  clang  of  the 
iron  throats  of  Paris. 

Below,  a  few  tiny  cries  rose  through  the  mur- 
mur. Across  the  roofs  came  the  thin  shrieks  of 
a  woman.  Lights  began  to  appear,  forms  clad 
in  night-dress.  Suddenly  across  the  court  tore 
into  the  night  Barabant's  frenzied  voice. 

74 


THE   TAKING  OF  THE   TUILERIES 

"  To  arms !  to  arms ! " 

As  though  awaiting  the  signal,   there  burst 
upon  the  ear  the  rumbling  of  drums,  the  scat 
tered  popping  of  firearms,  calls  and  answering 
calls  flung  from  roof  to  roof. 

"  To  arms,  citoyens,  to  arms ! " 

A  frenzy  passed  over  Nicole.  She  leaned  far 
out,  and  gathering  her  voice,  echoed : 

"  To  arms ! " 

She  bounded  back  into  the  room,  knocking 
over  the  chair,  snatched  up  her  cloak,  bounded 
to  the  window  to  cry  "  To  arms  ! "  crashed  down 
the  stairs,  dragging  Genevieve,  flung  out  of  the 
blind  passage,  bumping  and  bruising  her  shoul- 
ders, down  and  out  into  the  streets. 

From  every  doorway  figures  shot  forth  and 
passed,  running  toward  the  north.  The  two  girls, 
at  top  speed,  joined  the  crowd.  They  passed  a 
woman  with  a  torch,  whose  hair  stood  out  in  long 
streams  against  the  racing;  la  Mere  Corniche 
hobbling  along  as  fast  as  her  old  legs  would  take 
her ;  families  of  five  and  six  running  in  packs,  pant- 
ing and  silent,  while  beneath,  above,  about,  from 
disgorging  cellars,  from  loud-flung  open  windows, 
from  every  bell  the  city  writhed  in  nightmare. 

Distancing  their  companions,  they  arrived 
among  the  first  before  the  brasserie  of  Santerre, 
where  the  Quinze-Vingts  were  assembling,  form- 

75 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

ing  quickly  into  ranks.  From  one  window  Jam- 
bony,  the  crier,  in  an  enormous  red  cap,  was  feed- 
ing pikes  to  a  hundred  outstretched  hands.  The 
arrival  of  fresh  torches  caused  the  walls  to  loom 
up  like  lurid  cliffs,  sparkling  in  spots  where  a 
window-pane  blazed  back  the  reflection.  From 
the  windows  flattened  faces  with  black-encircled 
eyes  looked  down, — children  too  young,  men 
and  women  too  old,  to  survive  in  the  press 
below :  unhuman  faces  of  unhuman  beings,  like 
a  multitude  of  rats  driven  to  shelter  by  the  in- 
flux of  a  torrent. 

Below,  the  black  mass  surged  in,  spattered, 
under  the  glow  of  the  torches,  with  the  red  of 
the  liberty-caps,  while  two  banners  hung  like 
huge  blurs  above  the  tossing  surface  of  pikes 
and  weapons.  The  noise  was  deafening,  the  con- 
fusion beyond  control.  Men  rushed  in  and  out, 
their  arms  flung  wide  and  high,  bellowing : 

"  Death  to  the  tyrants!" 

"Death  to  the  fat  Louis!" 

A  slip  of  a  girl,  clinging  on  a  window-sill, 
harangued  the  mob ;  a  fishwife,  astride  her  hus- 
band, comic  and  furious,  beat  the  air  and  screamed 
to  the  crowd  to  dye  the  Seine  red.  Hags  with 
threatening  fists  shrieked  themselves  into  a  frenzy : 

"  To  the  Tuileries !   To  the  Tuileries ! " 

Some,  foaming,  overcome  with  their  passions, 


THE   TAKING   OF   THE   TUILERIES 

collapsed  on  the  ground.  The  anger  of  the  mob 
against  the  queen  gathered  at  times  in  bursts  and 
shouts : 

"  Death  to  Mme.  Veto ! " 

"  Death  to  the  Austrian  ! " 

Unthinkable  obscenities  were  coupled  with  her 
name  and  tossed  from  eddy  to  eddy.  The  Mar- 
seillais,  gathering  in  a  body,  dominated  the  tu- 
mult with  the  swelling  chords  of  their  battle 
hymn  that  on  their  voices  became  a  chant  of 
carnage  and  a  thing  of  terror. 

It  was  more  than  a  mob :  it  was  the  populace 
in  eruption.  All  the  human  passions  and  emo- 
tions were  there,  the  basest  and  the  noblest. 
There  were  the  scum — the  lepers,  the  beggars,  and 
the  criminals  diffused  among  the  zealots,  the  fa- 
natics, and  the  idealists.  There  were  the  frankly 
curious  and  the  adventurous,  and  those  with  ha- 
tred and  vengeance  in  their  hearts.  There  was 
youth,  warm-blooded  and  chivalrous,  stirred  by 
visions,  and  old  age  impatient  to  see  the  dawn  — 
all  hoarse  and  all  clamorous  to  march. 

The  order  did  not  come.  For  an  hour  they 
waited,  trembling  for  the  word.  The  uproar 
subsided  a  little.  The  torches  began  to  drop 
out :  there  were  moments  of  darkness  when  one 
could  hardly  distinguish  the  faces  about.  The 
cries  to  advance  changed  to  inquiries.  Boud- 

77 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

goust  brought  back  the  report  that  Petion,  the 
mayor,  was  a  captive,  held  as  a  hostage  in  the 
Tuileries. 

Santerre,  the  Goliath,  passed  among  them,  dis- 
tributing hand-shakes,  reassuring  them,  counsel- 
ing patience.  The  Assembly  would  meet  and 
summon  Petion  to  its  bar  and  the  court  would 
not  dare  detain  him.  Some  listened,  half  satis- 
fied; others,  the  Marseillais  specially,  cried  out 
for  action.  They  waited  still  another  hour  and 
a  half.  The  first  outburst  had  seemingly  ex- 
hausted the  populace :  they  remained  quietly, 
awed  at  the  immensity  of  their  daring.  Many, 
tiring  of  the  long  vigil  on  foot,  imitated  Nicole  and 
Genevieve  and  stretched  out  upon  the  pavements, 
forming  little  shallows  throughout  the  length  of 
the  street.  A  few  melted  away  to  seek  sleep  or 
food.  No  more  torches  were  lighted.  The  few 
that  spluttered  on  became  pale  and  effaced  be- 
fore the  drab  of  the  morning.  An  ashen  glow 
stole  over  the  street.  Then  the  army  that  had 
huddled  through  the  night  roused  itself,  shook 
itself,  gathered  spirit  and  anger  and  again  clam- 
ored to  advance. 

Santerre,  besieged  by  the  eager,  hesitated.  He 
sent  off  a  band  of  pikemen  and  then  the  Mar- 
seillais, but  the  rest  he  held  irresolutely. 

Suddenly  a  cry  started  up  from  the  outskirts 

78 


of  the  crowd.  A  tall  man  was  seen  running 
toward  them  with  outstretched  hands,  trying  to 
pierce  the  crowd  that  closed  around  him.  A 
great  shout  went  up  : 

"  The  news !  The  news ! " 

On  the  outskirts  a  hundred  hands  were  flung 
up,  then  a  thousand.  The  sound  of  a  mighty 
cry  could  be  heard  indistinguishable,  rumbling, 
gathering  volume,  sweeping  over  the  crowd. 

"  Petion  is  free  ! " 

"  Petion  is  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville ! " 

Santerre  hesitated  no  longer.  He  descended 
from  his  brasserie  and  gave  the  signal.  The 
enormous  mass  started,  moving  swiftly,  consum- 
ing its  way  like  a  glacier.  A  scullion,  with  the 
sudden  converging  impulse  toward  comradeship 
that  now  permeated  the  throng,  sought  anxiously 
for  a  familiar  face. 

A  pikeman  from  a  group,  seeing  his  trouble, 
called  out  : 

"  He",  comrade,  you  seek  friends.  We  are  your 
brothers.  March  with  us." 

In  measure,  as  they  swarmed  toward  the  Tui- 
leries,  fresh  reports  came  back.  Mandat  had  been 
summoned.  The  artillery  at  the  Pont  Neuf  had 
been  withdrawn.  Mandat  was  at  the  Hotel  de 
Ville.  Mandat  had  fallen  before  the  vengeance 
of  the  crowd. 

79 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

They  hastened  forward  and  rolled  into  the 
Place  de  la  Greve.  It  was  then  seven  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  There,  where  they  expected  the 
order  to  attack,  they  were  compelled  again  to 
wait.  When  they  clamored  they  were  told  that 
they  were  delaying  for  the  Faubourg  St.  Mar- 
ceau,  which  was  to  join  them  at  the  Pont  Neuf. 
Then  these  hordes,  who  had  passed  the  night  in 
suspense,  in  the  midst  of  rumors  and  counter- 
rumors,  sent  up  a  great  shout  of  anger : 

**  Treachery ! " 

The  populace  that  could  dare  anything  could 
not  stand  suspense.  A  panic  was  imminent ;  but 
firmer  spirits  began  to  exhort  them.  On  all 
sides  knots  of  men  flung  one  of  their  number 
into  the  air,  where,  from  the  shoulders  of  a  com- 
rade, witty,  brilliant,  and  magnetic,  he  calmed 
the  crowd  with  laughter. 

Nicole  and  Genevieve,  circulating  from  group 
to  group,  were  halted  by  a  familiar  voice,  and 
beheld,  aloft  the  giant  shoulders  of  Javogues,  the 
ardent  figure  of  Barabant  addressing  the  throng. 

"  Peace,  good,  kind,  gentle,  loyal  citizens,"  he 
was  saying  mockingly,  "you  will  disturb  the 
royal  slumbers.  Why  such  impatience  *?  The 
Austrian  cannot  see  you  at  such  an  hour.  You 
are  forgetting  etiquette ! "  A  roar  of  laughter 
showed  him  his  ground.  "  I  assure  you,  aristo- 

80 


THE   TAKING   OF   THE   TUILERIES 

crats  will  not  fight  before  breakfast,  before  they 
are  shaved  and  powdered  and  dressed.  Patience, 
my  Sans-Cuiottes ;  we  do  not  want  to  stab  them 
in  their  beds;  give  them  time  to  sleep  and 
breakfast,  that  we  may  show  them  how  Sans- 
Culottfcs  can  fight.  They  are  not  Sans-Culottes ; 
only  Sans-Culottes  can  fight  with  empty  stom- 
achs! 

"  For  shame,  citizens ;  one  does  not  grumble  in 
the  face  of  danger.  Look  about  you.  The  mo- 
ment is  sublime.  You  who  have  felled  the 
Bastille,  you  who  brought  Capet  back  from  Ver- 
sailles— you  are  now  to  strike  the  great  blow 
for  freedom,  and  you  grumble-.  What  matters 
it  if  we  have  waited  twenty  hours  or  twenty 
days,  if  we  may  see  such  an  event?  Who  would 
not  rather  die  at  such  a  moment  than  live  in  any 
age  or  in  any  condition  the  world  has  ever 
known?  Citizens,  the  moment  is  sublime;  be 
ye  also  sublime !  " 

He  slid  to  the  ground,  amid  uproarious  ap- 
proval, satisfied  and  elate.  Javogues,  the  Atlas, 
bellowed  out,  "  That  's  the  way  to  talk ;  he  is 
right !  Vive  la  Nation ! " 

"  Vive  le  Citoyen  Barabant ! " 

Barabant,  recognizing  the  voice  of  Nicole, 
turned,  while  the  crowd,  eagerly  catching  up  his 
name,  saluted  it  with  cheers. 

8l 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"  Bravo  the  Parisian ! " 

The  second  voice  was  Louison's.  The  two 
girls,  each  armed  w  'i  a  cutlass,  sent  him  their 
applause  over  the  en  vvd.  But,  while  the  frank 
enthusiasm  of  Nicole  inspired  him,  there  was 
something  in  the  tolerant  smile  of  Louison  that 
seemed  to  mock  his  elation.  Before  he  could 
reach  them,  the  crowd,  abandoning  the  cries  of 
treachery,  exploded  in  anger  at  the  Faubourg 
St.  Marceau. 

"  Fine  patriots !  " 

"  What  the  devil  are  they  doing  ?  " 

"  We  do  not  need  them ;  to  the  Tuileries 
without  them ! " 

"  Give  us  news  of  them  !  " 

"  Citoyens,  I  '11  bring  you  news,"  Barabant  re- 
torted. "  A  little  patience  and  you  shall  know 
of  the  Faubourg  St.  Marceau." 

He  returned  through  the  chafing  multitude, 
and  departed  down  the  Rue  St.  Honore  as  fast  as 
his  legs  could  carry  him.  At  the  Place  du 
Carrousel  the  mob  was  besieging  the  entrance 
to  the  Tuileries,  clamoring  for  admittance.  As 
he  hesitated,  the  gate  was  flung  open  and  the 
mass,  with  the  quickness  of  gunpowder  seeking 
an  outlet,  crashed  in.  Barabant,  all  else  for- 
gotten, hurled  himself  forward  in  a  blind  en- 
deavor to  reach  the  court.  He  tripped  and  fell, 

82 


THE   TAKING   OF   THE   TUILERIES 

and  before  he  could  gain  his  feet  the  mob  had 
passed  him. 

There  had  been  not  a/'  .oment  of  hesitation. 
They  rushed  into  the  tr&£,  heeding  neither  the 
windows,  bristling  with  muskets,  that  confronted 
them  nor  the  walls  that  hemmed  them  in.  Leap- 
ing and  shouting,  they  ran  to  the  vestibule  at  the 
end.  There  they  saw  a  mass  of  red  that  colored 
it  from  top  to  bottom — a  mass  perfectly  ordered. 
It  was  the  Swiss,  drawn  up  line  by  line  on  every 
step,  their  muskets  at  aim,  awaiting  the  word. 

The  first  assailants  stopped  irresolutely,  but 
the  impetus  of  those  behind  swept  them  on,  until 
the  vestibule  was  consumed  and  the  first  ranks 
looked  into  the  threatening  barrels.  Still  no 
sound.  The  two  forces,  the  machine  and  the 
monster,  looked  into  each  other's  eyes,  noting 
little  details.  The  populace,  gaining  confidence, 
began  to  jest,  saluting  the  soldiers  with  friendly 
greetings,  inviting  them  to  join  them. 

Some  one  in  the  mob,  extending  a  long  crook, 
hooked  a  Swiss  and  drew  him  into  the  vortex, 
amid  shouts  of  laughter.  They  clapped  their 
hands,  laughing  like  children,  and  set  to  work  at 
this  new  game.  A  second,  a  third,  five  Swiss, 
were  thus  fished  out  of  the  ranks  without  resisting. 

All  at  once,  from  the  balcony  above,  a  voice 
cried : 

83 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

"Fire!" 

As  the  sea  with  an  immense  impulse  recoils 
from  an  earthquake,  there  was  a  vast  recoil  in 
the  mob,  an  exact  explosion  from  the  machine. 
The  smoke,  rushing  down  the  vestibule,  swirled 
into  the  air  and  lifted.  The  officer  leaned  curi- 
ously over  the  balcony  and  gave  the  order  to 
advance.  The  red  ranks  moved  down  and  over 
the  inanimate  mound;  of  all  those  who  a  mo- 
ment before  had  laughed  incredulously  not  one 
survived. 

Outside,  the  mob  broke  and  fled  up  the  Place 
du  Carrousel,  recoiling  from  the  horrid  vestibule, 
where  suddenly  there  formed  a  bubble  of  red, 
that  grew  larger  and  trickled  over  the  garden, 
widening  and  assuming  mass  and  shape.  At 
times  across  the  red,  like  a  diamond  meeting 
the  sun,  there  ran  a  brilliant  flash.  At  every 
flash  men  stumbled  in  their  flight  and  pitched 
forward.  Pell-mell  into  the  Rue  St.  Honore* 
they  ran,  routed,  but  full  of  anger  and  enthusiasm. 

At  this  moment  the  sections  of  the  Marais 
swept  in,  gathered  them  up,  and,  burning  with 
vengeance  at  the  sight  of  their  wounds,  rushed 
on  to  the  attack.  Barabant,  who  had  received  a 
flesh-wound  in  the  hand,  had  barely  time  to 
bind  it  up  before  he  was  swept  again  into  the 
Carrousel 

84 


THE   TAKING   OF   THE   TUILERIES 

Then  a  vast  hurrah  burst  from  them,  a  shout 
of  relief  and  of  battle.  From  the  quais  the  guer- 
rilla band  of  the  Marseillais  were  rolling  forward, 
formidable,  grim,  and  unleashed.  Suddenly  their 
ranks  parted  and  two  tongues  of  fire  lashed  out; 
in  the  solid  bank  of  the  Swiss  two  gaps  appeared. 
A  frenzy  possessed  the  assaulting  mass.  It 
flung  itself  forward,  without  method,  attacking 
only  with  its  anger.  The  Swiss  reentered  the 
vestibule,  issuing  forth  from  time  to  time  to  de- 
liver a  volley. 

Barabant,  in  the  midst  of  the  swirl,  lost  con- 
sciousness of  his  acts,  swayed  by  sudden,  unrea- 
soning passion.  He  fired  fast  and  faster,  caught 
by  the  infection  of  his  comrades,  cursing,  exhort- 
ing wildly,  laughing ;  but  his  bullets,  without  ob- 
jective, flattened  themselves  against  the  death- 
dealing  walls.  At  times  he  saw,  through  the 
thick  smoke,  Javogues  and  his  comrades  drag- 
ging a  cannon  forward  toward  the  barracks.  At 
another  moment  there  suddenly  emerged  out  of 
the  melee  the  figure  of  the  two  bouquetieres. 

Amid  the  swirl  of  smoke,  Nicole  appeared  to 
Barabant's  excited  senses  as  a  goddess  exhorting 
them  to  battle.  Her  hair  had  tumbled,  rioting, 
her  dress  was  torn  open  at  the  throat,  her  bare 
arms  were  stained  with  powder  and  red  with  the 
contact  of  the  wounded ;  and  yet,  as  she  loaded 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

a  musket,  or  presented  it  to  a  volunteer,  or 
showed  him  the  flashing  walls,  she  laughed : 
one  of  those  laughs  sublime  with  the  indifference 
to  danger  and  the  joy  of  heroism  that  inflame 
the  souls  of  those  who  hear  it,  and  transform  the 
wavering  with  the  frenzy  of  sacrifice. 

On  the  contrary,  Louison,  among  all  the  con- 
fusion and  the  tumult,  moved  quietly,  gathering 
the  bullets  from  the  fallen  and  returning  them  to 
her  friend.  Her  face  was  calm,  cold;  her  eyes 
sought  everything  and  showed  nothing;  and 
though  she  moved  incessantly  on  her  quests,  she 
was  apart  from  all — a  spectator. 

Barabant,  unable  to  join  them,  was  carried 
step  by  step  toward  the  barracks.  Once  he 
slipped  in  a  pool  of  blood  and  went  down,  his 
companion  falling  across  him.  He  called  to  him 
to  rise,  but  the  man  was  dead.  A  woman  of  the 
halles  freed  him. 

A  series  of  explosions  almost  hurled  him 
back;  the  next  moment  the  barracks,  rent  in 
gaps,  were  swept  with  a  sheet  of  flame.  The 
assailants,  with  a  cry  of  triumph,  hurled  them- 
selves into  the  palace,  while  the  Swiss,  forced 
up  the  staircase,  broke  and  fled,  pursued  and 
shot  down  by  the  victors. 

Through  the  apartments,  shattering  doors, 
overturning  furniture,  howling  along  the  empty 

86 


THE   TAKING   OF   THE   TUILERIES 

corridors,  the  mob  crashed  in,  as  the  first  victori- 
ous blast  of  a  tempest,  shrieking : 

"  A  la  mort !     A  la  mort !  " 

One  by  one  the  flying  Swiss  were  overtaken. 
Packs  of  the  invaders  leaped  upon  them,  burying 
them  from  view,  until,  stabbed  with  a  dozen 
useless  thrusts,  their  bodies  were  flung  with  ex- 
ulting cries  from  the  windows ;  while  as  the 
foremost  stopped  to  enjoy  their  prey,  the  herd 
swept  to  the  front  with  hungry  arms  and  the 
ever-rising  shout : 

"  Death  to  all !     Death  to  all !  " 

Barabant,  racing  ahead  to  save  the  women, 
soon  found  himself  in  front,  running  beside  a 
Marseillais,  who  cried  to  him  with  the  voice  of 
Javogues : 

"  Keep  with  me,  citoyen,  keep  with  me ! 
Leave  the  curs  to  the  others ! " 

A  Swiss,  hearing  them  at  his  back,  fell  on  his 
knees,  shrieking  for  mercy. 

"  Leave  him.  Don't  stop  ! "  Javogues  panted. 
Seizing  Barabant's  arm,  he  bore  him  down  a  side 
gallery,  shouting: 

"  There  he  is !  There  he  is  ! " 

At  the  end  of  the  corridor  Barabant  beheld  a 
tall  form  disappearing  at  the  head  of  a  narrow 
stairway. 

Up  this  they  rushed,  into  the  single  outlet, 

87 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

a  guard-room,  only  to  find  it  empty.     Javogues 
threw  himself  furiously  against  the  walls. 

"  I  saw  him,  I  saw  him ;  he  is  here  some- 
where ! " 

"Who?" 

"  Dossonville  !  He  was  among  the  Swiss.  I 
saw  him."  He  ran  around  the  room,  assailing  it 
with  his  huge  fists.  All  at  once  he  gave  a  cry, 
and  lifting  the  hatchet  he  bore,  he  sent  a  secret 
door  crashing  in. 

"  He  is  here  ! " 

He  hacked  his  way  through  and  disappeared, 
thundering  down  the  passage.  Barabant,  only 
half  comprehending  what  had  happened,  re- 
mained a  moment  in  perplexity.  But  the  sound 
'of  women's  cries  startled  him  again  to  activity. 
He  darted  back  into  the  current  of  the  mob  and 
gained  the  women's  apartments.  At  the  foot  of 
the  staircase  an  officer  of  the  National  Guard  was 
crying : 

"  We  don't  kill  women ! " 

"  Spare  the  women ! "  Barabant  echoed. 

A  dozen  others  took  up  the  cry. 

"  The  Republic  does  not  make  war  on 
women ! " 

The  mob,  balked  of  half  its  vengeance  by  the 
firmness  of  a  dozen  officers,  turned  to  desecration 
and  pillage.  Troops  of  women,  like  furies, 


THE  TAKING  OF   THE   TUILERIES 

swarmed  through  the  royal  apartments,  tearing 
the  beds  to  pieces,  exulting,  foul  and  crazed. 

Barabant,  sickening  at  the  sight  of  unnamable 
excesses,  retraced  his  way  down  the  strewn 
galleries,  heaped  with  overturned  furniture,  and 
tapestries  pulled  from  the  wall,  spattered  with 
blood  and  dirt.  Heedless  of  the  shouts  above 
him,  he  passed  down  the  vestibule  and  over  the 
mountain  of  slain,  suffocated  by  the  stench  and 
the  horror  of  wide-mouthed  corpses.  Now  that 
the  crisis  was  over,  his  inflammable  nature  re- 
coiled before  the  ugliness  of  the  triumph. 

While  Louison  and  Genevieve  had  been  drawn 
into  the  frantic  mob  which  swept  the  palace, 
Nicole  had  remained  outside,  joining  the  hun- 
dreds of  women  who  visited  the  wounded  or 
sought,  in  agony,  among  the  dead.  She  also,  with 
a  new  anxiety,  sped  among  the  slain  with  a  sink- 
ing dread  before  each  upturned  face. 

All  at  once  a  familiar  voice  cried  at  her 
side : 

"  Help  !  help  ! " 

The  cry  came  from  beneath  the  body  of  a 
Marseillais.  With  the  aid  of  a  fishwife  she 
pulled  away  the  corpse,  discovering  the  shaken, 
limp  form  of  the  mountebank  Cramoisin. 

"Ah,  mon  Dieu,"  she  cried,   forgetting   the 

89 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

rancor  of  the  woman  in  the  patriot,  "are  you 
wounded  ?  " 

«I  —  I  think  so." 

"  Where  <?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  stammered,  rising  weakly 
to  his  feet.  "  Is  it  ended  ?  " 

"  In  thy  stomach,  I  guess,  my  brave  fellow ! " 
the  fishwife  cried  with  rough  scorn.  "  It  seems 
to  have  failed  thee  ! " 

"  You  do  not  know  him :  he  is  a  hero ! " 
Nicole  cried,  ironically.  "Wait  a  moment;  we  '11 
find  the  wound ! " 

With  a  laugh,  the  two  sought  to  seize  him ; 
but  Cramoisin,  having  recovered  the  use  of  his 
legs,  escaped  in  a  ludicrous,  snarling  flight. 

Suddenly  Nicole  beheld  Barabant  stumbling 
forth  from  the  vestibule.  All  coquetry  forgot, 
she  sprang  to  him  with  the  cry : 

"  Barabant,  you  are  wounded  !  " 

He  looked  at  his  arm  and  saw  it  was  covered 
with  blood.  He  passed  his  hand  over  his  face ; 
a  scalp-wound  trickled  a  red  stream  down  his 
forehead.  He  sat  down  while  she  hurriedly 
washed  the  wounds  and  bandaged  them.  When 
he  essayed  to  rise,  a  dizziness  made  his  step  so 
unsteady  that  Nicole  drew  his  arm  over  her 
shoulder,  laughing  at  his  feeble  resistance. 

"  Aliens,  this  is  the  hour  of  the  women.  I  '11 
90 


THE   TAKING  OF  THE   TUILERIES 

bring  you  back.  Don't  be  afraid  to  lean  on 
me ! " 

She  put  her  arm  about  his  waist  and  impelled 
him  gently.  He  resisted  no  longer,  and  together 
slowly  they  moved  homeward  over  the  stricken 
field,  amid  the  groaning  and  the  silent. 

He  had  a  misty  recollection  of  a  phantasma- 
goric passage,  of  rapidly  moving  figures  hideous 
with  blood,  of  heads  dancing  on  pikes  above 
him,  of  stretchers  bearing  inanimate  things,  of 
rushing,  floating  women,  of  the  sudden  rumbling 
of  drums,  of  companies  swinging  past  him,  of  in- 
terminable streets,  and  of  cliffs,  mountains  high, 
that  gave  forth  shrieks  of  triumph.  Then  in  the 
city,  delirious  with  joy  and  sorrow,  delirium,  too, 
rushed  through  his  brain,  his  head  fell  heavily 
upon  Nicole's  bare  shoulder,  and  the  will  desert- 
ing his  limbs,  he  slipped  from  her  arms  heavily  to 
the  ground. 


VI 

THE  HEART  OF  A  WOMAN 

WHEN  at  last  Nicole  had  brought  Barabant 
to  his  room,  she  was  very  tired.  Goursac, 
whom  she  had  summoned  to  help  her,  knelt  by 
the  bed  to  examine  the  unconscious  form.  Every 
now  and  then  he  turned  a  questioning  look 
upon  the  girl,  as  though  to  penetrate  the  indiffer- 
ent attitude  she  maintained. 

"  Why  don't  you  say  something  *? "  Nicole 
cried  at  last,  her  anxiety  mastering  her  prudence. 
"  Is  it  so  serious  *?  " 

"  A  mere  scratch,"  he  grumbled ;  "  nothing 
to  make  such  a  fuss  over.  If  he  had  n't  been  as 
weak  as  a  woman  —  " 

Nicole,  reassured,  smiled  at  his  ill-humor, know- 
ing the  mood  of  old.  Goursac,  furious  at  such 
a  reception  of  his  sarcasm,  turned  on  her  angrily. 

"  You  are  like  all  the  rest — just  as  stupid.  Be- 
cause a  young  fellow  gets  a  scratch  and  you 
pilot  him  home,  you  call  that  a  romance.  You 
know  well  enough  what  that  leads  to ! " 

92 


THE   HEART   OF  A   WOMAN 

"  That  may  be  true ;  why  should  n't  I  have  my 
romance  as  well  as  another  ?  " 

"  You  say  that  to  plague  me.  You  know  that 
is  not  so  ! "  he  said  impatiently.  "  Now  give  me 
a  bandage." 

Stooping,  Nicole  seized  her  petticoat;  but  find- 
ing it  stained  with  traces  of  the  combat,  she 
dropped  it,  and  calling  to  him  to  wait,  passed 
through  the  window  and  across  the  gutter,  sway- 
ing lithely  against  the  roof.  In  a  moment  she 
returned  with  half  of  a  sheet,  which  they 
quickly  tore  into  bandages. 

"There;  with  a  little  rest  —  a  chance  to  re- 
cover some  blood  —  the  fever  will  abate  !  "  Pre- 
paring a  sling,  Goursac  jerked  his  head  toward 
the  bed  and  demanded :  "  You  are  not  going  to 
watch  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  am ! " 

"Then  say  at  once,"  he  cried  point-blank, 
"  that  you  imagine  you  are  in  love ! " 

"Goursac,  my  friend,  you  are  ridiculous  with 
your  ideas,"  Nicole  answered  impatiently.  "  You 
know  that  the  Citoyen  Barabant  arrived  only 
yesterday.  We  are  good  comrades.  That  's 
all!" 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes ! " 

He  wrinkled  his  lips  in  scornful  unbelief, 
raised  his  shoulders  to  his  ears,  and  disappeared, 

93 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

heavily,  down  the  stairs,  grumbling  ironically, 
"  A  man  lies  to  deceive  others ;  a  woman  lies  to 
deceive  herself! " 

A  moment  later  he  called  back : 

"  He,  above  there  !  " 

Nicole  went  to  the  landing. 

"  Is  that  you,  the  comrade  *?  " 

"  Yes,  old  cynic." 

"  If  you  need  me,  stamp  twice  on  the  floor." 

"  Agreed." 

"  Return  now  to  your  —  acquaintance." 

Nicole,  laughing,  returned  to  the  bedside.  She 
placed  her  hand  on  the  heated  forehead,  frowned, 
smoothed  down  the  covers,  arranged  the  dis- 
carded clothes,  and,  after  a  moment's  reflection, 
departed  over  the  roof  to  her  room. 

When  she  again  appeared,  she  had  removed 
all  traces  of  the  battle.  She  pulled  a  chair  near 
the  bed,  loosened  her  hair,  scattering  it  over  her 
shoulders,  and  began  to  comb  it  out,  unraveling 
the  tangle  with  many  grimaces  and  an  oft-wrung 
"Aie!  aie!" 

Occasionally  she  consulted  a  pocket-mirror, 
then  resumed  the  combing,  humming  to  herself. 
Barabant,  his  forehead  enveloped  in  white,  his 
arm  in  a  sling,  lay  with  his  head  turned  toward 
her,  one  arm  escaping  bare  above  the  covers. 
She  regarded  approvingly  the  lithe  muscles  sug- 

94 


THE   HEART   OF  A   WOMAN 

gested  under  the  soft  skin,  and,  ceasing  her 
humming,  pronounced : 

"  He  is  well  made !  " 

She  leaned  over  the  bed  and  opened  the  collar 
of  his  shirt,  revealing  the  full  throat. 

"  Tiens,  he  's  as  white  as  a  woman." 

She  withdrew,  and  resumed  her  humming. 

"  But,  Dieu  merci,  it 's  not  a  woman."  She 
was  taking  up  another  strand  when  the  stairs 
cried  out  and  Louison  entered.  Nicole  frowned 
and  said  curtly : 

"  Ah,  it 's  you,  is  it  ?     Who  told  you  ?  " 

"  La  Mere  Corniche.  How  goes  it  *? "  she 
ask;ed,  indicating  Barabant. 

"  Well." 

"  Are  you  coming  to  eat  something  *?  " 

"  No,  I  'm  staying  here." 

"  Is  it  so  serious  V  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  continuing  her  comb- 
ing. "  He  pleases  me." 

Louison  stood  at  the  bed,  looking  down.  "  Not 
bad ;  he  's  interesting.  I  noticed  he  had  good 
eyes." 

Nicole  stopped  her  combing,  and  a  frown 
gathered  above  the  childish  cheeks,  as  she  cried 
impetuously : 

"  Louison,  no  interference,  do  you  hear  *? 
Or  —  " 

95 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"Or  what*?"  The  dark  eyebrows  arched 
slightly,  but  the  deep  eyes  remained  cold.  Ni- 
cole did  not  answer.  Louison  returned  to  the 
contemplation  of  the  young  man  a  moment 
longer,  then  reluctantly  rousing  herself  from  her 
reverie,  turned  on  her  heel.  Her  eye,  falling  on 
Nicole,  regarded  her  with  a  trace  of  amusement. 

"  Child ! "  she  said,  standing  in  the  doorway, 
her  face  relaxing  into  a  smile.  "  You  have 
chosen  the  best  moment,  my  dear:  you  are 
adorable ! " 

Nicole  listened,  immovable,  until  the  last  foot- 
step had  grown  silent.  Then  drawing  her  lips 
together,  she  seized  her  knees  with  her  hands, 
and  thus  curbed,  her  eyes  fixed  themselves  in 
intense  contemplation,  while  several  times  a 
sudden  anger  knit  her  features  before  she  shook 
off  the  disagreeable  emotions  and  sought  the  cool 
of  the  window. 

At  a  rustling  from  the  bed  she  returned  quickly. 
Barabant  had  stirred  slightly,  but  so  as  to  throw 
his  weight  upon  the  wounded  arm.  She  slipped 
her  arm  under  him  and  moved  him  to  a  more 
comfortable  position.  This  maternal  solicitude, 
slight  as  it  was,  awakened  a  new  emotion  in  her. 
She  arranged  his  hair,  and  seeking  hungrily  for 
any  further  service,  began  to  bathe  the  hot 
eyelids. 

96 


THE  HEART   OF  A   WOMAN 

Barabant,  under  the  gentle  stroking,  opened 
his  eyes.  The  confines  appeared  to  him  vast  and 
silent,  the  window  far  removed  and  small.  The 
long  August  twilight  invaded  the  room  with  the 
delicious  promise  of  a  quieter  night,  while  from 
without  the  distant,  scattered  sounds  of  rejoicing 
reached  his  ears,  through  the  corridors  of  insen- 
sibility, like  the  tinkle  of  soft  music.  He  sighed 
contentedly  and  closed  his  eyes  again. 

Presently  he  said,  turning,  his  head  a  trifle,  but 
without  opening  his  eyes : 

"  Thou  art  really  there,  Nicole  ?  " 

The  accent  and  the  caress  pierced  to  the  depths 
the  heart  of  the  young  girl,  already  stirred  by 
the  maternal  impulse  of  the  woman. 

"  Really  here,  yes." 

But  almost  immediately,  as  though  regretting 
the  softness  of  the  response,  she  added,  in  re- 
monstrance : 

"  I  have  not  given  you  permission  to  call  me 
thou ! " 

*'  It  is  my  gratitude  that  —  that  permits  me." 

"  Ah,  that  is  nice."  She  smiled  with  pleasure. 
"  That  was  very  prettily  said." 

"Nicole?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Place  your  ear  to  my  lips ;  I  cannot  talk  so 
far." 

7  97 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

The  girl,  with  a  smile,  divining  the  ruse, 
leaned  over  him.  But  Barabant  making  no 
sound,  she  withdrew,  scrutinizing  anxiously  the 
hot  face. 

"  Nicole." 

"  I  am  here." 

Again  she  stooped,  and  this  time  so  close  that 
her  hair  swept  his  forehead. 

"  You  are  there  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  love  you,"  he  said  drowsily. 

"  Oh,  oh  !  "  Nicole  started  back,  blushing  and 
amused;  but  looking  down,  she  saw  he  had 
dropped  again  into  the  wanderings  of  delirium. 

"  He  does  not  know  what  he  says,"  she  said, 
shaking  her  head.  "  Poor  fellow  ! " 

She  watched  him  in  his  helplessness,  and  all 
at  once  she  sighed ;  but  it  was  a  sigh  that  rose 
from  the  soul,  and  while  it  filled  her  heart,  it 
passed  on  and  awakened  in  her  a  famine  of  ten- 
derness, leaving  a  longing  for  tears. 

Motionless  and  perplexed,  she  stood  staring 
down  at  the  dim  bed,  her  lips  parted,  her  breast 
filling  with  deep  breaths,  until  at  last  she  turned 
reluctantly  and  sought  the  window,  still  un- 
certain, nor  comprehending  what  was  germinat- 
ing within  her. 

98 


THE   HEART   OF   A   WOMAN 

The  night  was  beginning;  in  the  clear  heavens 
the  high  moon  was  strengthening  in  luster  at 
every  moment.  Across  the  stretch  of  window 
lights  the  sounds  of  revelry  and  rejoicing  per- 
sisted faintly  to  her  ears.  The  courtyard,  deserted 
by  the  men,  was  hushed  with  the  silence  of  fatigue. 
The  laugh  of  a  girl  mounted  at  times,  clear  and 
playful,  mingling  with  the  deeper,  good-humored 
protests  of  her  companion.  From  a  window  a  hag, 
chin  in  hand,  followed  the  lovers  with  due  in- 
terest. In  another  room  a  weary  mother  had 
fallen  asleep  with  her  baby  still  feeding  at  her 
breast.  At  other  windows  the  women  waited 
patiently  the  return  of  the  men,  bending  mechan- 
ically over  their  knitting  or  crooning  to  the  sleepy 
children.  There,  under  the  enduring,  tedious 
night,  Nicole  stayed  from  minute  to  minute, 
pressing  her  clenched  hand  tensely  against  her 
lips ;  while  within  her  breast  beat  tumult  and 
a  revolt  against  the  slavery  of  women.  She 
returned  to  the  bedside,  rebelling  against  this 
helpless  man  who  drew  her  irresistibly  from  her 
independence. 

"  Nicole  —  " 

It  was  Goursac  calling,  and  she  sprang  furiously 
to  the  landing, rebuking  him  with  a  low:  "Silence! 
he  is  asleep.  What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  If  you  are  tired,  I  '11  watch." 

99 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

"No,  no!"  she  answered  angrily.  The  cry 
seemed  to  burst  from  her  heart,  threatened  by 
the  very  thought  of  such  exile. 

She  knelt  at  the  bed  hungrily,  waiting  jeal- 
ously for  an  opportunity  to  ease  the  restless  body, 
her  revolt  forgotten  in  the  defense  of  her  right  to 
soothe  and  minister.  She  slipped  her  arm  under 
his  body,  and  drew  his  head  upon  her  shoulder. 
A  sigh  of  contentment  rewarded  her.  He  grew 
more  quiet,  breathing  gentle  breaths  that  dis- 
turbed her  hair  and  fanned  her  throat.  In  the 
half-darkness  she  remained,  with  aching  shoul- 
der, holding  him  in  her  arms  as  though  to  de- 
fend him  from  all  who  would  separate  them. 
Several  times,  in  an  access  of  tenderness,  she  ap- 
proached her  lips  to  the  unconscious  forehead, 
but  each  time  instinctively  drew  back  from  the 
surrender.  She  had  a  desire  for  tears,  for  laugh- 
ter, for  swift  anger,  that  he  should  wake  at  last. 
She  would  have  kept  him  there  forever,  weak 
and  helpless,  turning  to  her  in  trust  and  neces- 
sity. At  times,  with  a  sudden  alarm,  she  asked 
herself  what  had  happened,  what  could  be  these 
new  emotions,  until  at  last,  in  the  disturbance 
and  bewilderment  of  her  soul,  she  saw  the  utter 
loneliness  of  her  life,  and  the  cry  went  up  from 
her: 

"  Ah,  mon  Dieu,  how  unhappy  I  am ! " 
100 


THE   HEART   OF  A   WOMAN 

The  full  sun  was  beating  into  the  room  when  Bara- 
bant  awoke.  His  forehead  was  cold,  his  senses 
were  sharp ;  but  his  memory  struggled  in  vain 
to  reconstruct  the  events  of  the  afternoon.  His 
arm  confined  in  a  sling  brought  back  his  wound, 
and  Nicole,  and  the  beginning  of  the  tedious 
journey;  beyond  that  a  black  wall  rose  up  and 
shut  out  all  vision.  He  turned  over,  calculating 
his  strength,  when,  his  eye  traveling  over  the 
bedside,  what  was  his  stupefaction  to  behold 
Nicole  stretched  upon  the  floor.  Her  hands  were 
pillowed  under  her  cheek,  where  the  long  eye- 
lashes showed  sharply  against  the  heightened 
color.  She  slept  easily,  the  lips  slightly  parted 
as  though  smiling  under  happy  dreams.  Bara- 
bant  watched  her  breathlessly,  jealously  putting 
off  the  awakening.  But  at  this  moment,  as 
though  aware  of  the  intensity  of  his  gaze,  the 
girl  opened  her  eyes,  met  the  enraptured  glance 
of  Barabant  a  moment  only,  then  sprang  to  her 
feet  with  a  confusion  which  she  sought  to  cover 
with  a  laughing  "  Good  morning ! " 

"You  have  been  here  all  night?"  Barabant 
said,  in  astonishment. 

"  Why  not  *?  "  Nicole  noticed  that  he  did  not 
address  her  as  "  thou."  She  rearranged  her  dress 
and  said  with  forced  naturalness,  "  Do  you  think 
that  is  much  to  do  for  a  patriot  who  is  wounded  ?  " 

101 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

Barabant,  displeased  with  the  answer,  made  no 
reply. 

"  So  you  have  decided  to  return  to  this  world, 
citoyen  ?  " 

"  Have  I  been  delirious  ?  " 

"Do  you  remember  nothing  ?  " 

"  Nothing  since — since  the  Place  de  la  Greve." 
As  this  answer  seemed  to  plunge  Nicole  into  si- 
lence, he  asked,  "  How  did  you  get  me  here  ?  " 

"  It  was  n't  difficult,"  she  began  more  gaily. 
"  I  begged  your  way  from  block  to  block.  Let 
me  see ;  two  water-carriers  brought  you  half-way, 
then  a  coachman  a  block  on  his  route,  then  an- 
other block  on  a  litter,  and  finally  a  fishwife 
helped  me  to  the  end." 

"  You  carried  me  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  am  not  a  weakling;  look  at  that." 
She  extended  her  arms,  laughing.  "  They  are 
solid." 

"  And  this  ?  "     Barabant  touched  the  sling. 

"  Oh,  that  was  the  Citoyen  Goursac." 

"Who?" 

"Your  neighbor  below,  a  brown  man  who 
buries  his  chin  like  this,  and  scowls.  That  re- 
minds me,  it  is  time  he  should  see  you." 

"Nicole!" 

"Well,  what?" 

"  Not  now ;  not  just  yet." 

102 


THE   HEART   OF   A   WOMAN 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  wish  to  talk  with  you." 

"The  idea,  as  though  I  had  nothing  to  do!" 
She  raised  her  foot  and  stamped  twice.  "  I  have 
a  desire  to  dine  to-night,  thank  you." 

"  Where  are  you  going  *?  " 

"I  'm  going  to  work."  She  picked  up  her 
possessions  and  made  for  the  window,  while  Bara- 
bant  cried  excitedly: 

"  Nicole,  I  have  not  thanked  you.  Wait,  let 
me  thank  you." 

"  Why  ?  "  She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  I  'd 
do  that  for  any  one." 

Barabant  raised  himself  on  his  elbow  and 
threatened,  half  angrily :  "  Nicole,  if  you  go,  I  '11 
follow  you.  I  swear  I  '11  follow  you.  I  will. 
Look  at  me.  I  swear  I  will !  " 

"  What  good  will  it  do  you  *?     I  '11  be  gone." 

She  shook  her  head,  and,  deaf  to  his  entreaties, 
disappeared;  while  Barabant,  furious,  fell  back, 
baffled  and  perplexed,  little  suspecting  the 
awakening  that  was  taking  place  in  Nicole. 


103 


VII 

THE  FEAR  OF  HAPPINESS 

WHEN  Nicole  reached  her  room,  she  found 
Genevieve  up  and  waiting. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  child  *? "  she  cried 
sharply,  to  cover  her  confusion.  "  Why  are  you 
here  ?  " 

"I  —  I  am  waiting,"  Genevieve  stammered, 
"  to  see  if  I  could  do  anything  for  you." 

"  There  is  nothing.  I  am  going  out  now  my- 
self." 

"  What ! "  cried  the  child,  opening  her  eyes 
wide.  "  You  are  not  going  to  stay  with  the  poor 
fellow  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  need.     He  is  well." 

"But  I  thought  —  "  She  stopped,  in  confu- 
sion, and  then  clumsily  beat  a  retreat  to  the 
door.  "  I  '11  go  now.  I  —  I  only  wanted  to  be 
of  service." 

Nicole  waited  only  long  enough  to  be  sure  of 
Genevieve's  departure  before  descending  in  turn. 
Her  little  room  was  too  narrow ;  it  choked  her. 
104 


THE   FEAR   OF   HAPPINESS 

She  had  need  of  the  open  span  of  the  sky  to  think 
over  the  new  emotions. 

After  an  hour  of  unprofitable  solitude,  feeling 
the  need  of  a  confidence  which  would  lessen  the 
tension  of  her  thoughts,  she  sought  Goursac,  be- 
ginning timidly  with  the  question : 

"  And  the  Citoyen  Barabant,  how  is  he  ?  " 

"  Why,  he  is  still  alive,  clamoring  for  you  like 
a  lost  child  for  his  mother." 

"  Goursac,  my  old  friend,"  she  said,  taking  his 
arm,  "  be  serious  and  gentle  for  once.  I  am  un- 
happy, and  I  want  to  talk  with  you." 

"Ah,  you  love  him,"  he  said  bitterly. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  slowly,  as  though  the  revela- 
tion had  just  come,  "  I  love  him." 

"  Then  why  do  you  avoid  him  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid." 

"Of  what?" 

"  Of  loving  him  too  much." 

"  I  don't  understand." 

She  tried  to  tell  him  a  little  of  her  emotions 
at  the  bedside — the  wonder  and  the  swift,  acute 
joy  of  ministering,  the  longing  to  tend  and  own. 
Goursac,  with  a  few  questions,  led  her  on.  They 
were  now  in  the  Tuileries,  a  little  apart  from  the 
quick  throng,  the  swish  of  skirts,  the  laughter 
and  the  hum.  At  last  he  said : 

"  My  little  Nicole,  listen.  Love  is  not  some- 
105 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

thing  that  comes  to  us  from  the  outside :  it  is  a 
need  within  ourselves.  We  each  have  our  func- 
tions in  this  world  and  our  needs.  At  the  bottom, 
what  is  strongest  and  best  in  woman  is  the  ma- 
ternal instinct.  Listen  to  me  !  You  fall  in  love 
when  the  need  within  you  becomes  too  insistent. 
Any  one  of  a  hundred  men  can  appeal  to  you. 
It  is  the  moment  and  not  the  man.  You  knew 
the  maternal  instinct  for  the  first  time  when  you 
had  in  your  keeping  the  Citoyen  Barabant.  You 
think  that  it  is  he  that  has  awakened  you.  Not 
at  all ;  all  these  emotions  have  been  in  you,  dor- 
mant; it  is  they,  not  he,  which  enchant  you. 
Voyons  —  you  do  not  listen  —  Nicole  !  " 

"  That 's  true,"  she  said,  rousing  herself  from 
her  reverie.  Her  eyes  had  been  deep  in  the 
bright  to  and  fro  of  the  promenaders,  but  she 
saw  only  the  room  under  the  attic,  and  felt  only 
the  hot  head  on  her  aching  shoulder. 

"  After  all,  you  are  thinking  only  of  him,  and 
I  am  a  fool,"  he  said.  "  Nothing  that  I  can  say 
will  make  any  difference.  You  will  learn,  as 
others  have  learned,  on  the  steps  of  experience. 
Out  of  some  curious  twist  within  you,  in  some 
strange  way  of  reasoning  you  will  decide  for 
yourself." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  she  said  drearily.  "  But  I 
wanted  to  talk  it  out;  you  are  kind  to  me." 

106 


THE   FEAR   OF   HAPPINESS 

"  I,"  he  said  calmly — "  I  adore  you." 

"Be  serious." 

"  That  is  serious." 

"Truly?" 

"  You  know  it." 

"  Why  ?  "  she  said  meditatively,  but  half  be- 
lieving him. 

"  You  are  young,"  he  answered,  looking  stead- 
fastly at  the  charming  profile.  "  And  to  see  you 
is  good  for  the  eyes.  You  are  youth,  and  I  have 
not  been  old  long  enough  to  be  reconciled  to  age. 
But  you  don't  believe  me." 

"  Yes." 

"  No ;  at  least,  you  do  not  understand." 

She  did  not  return  home  until  nightfall,  and  then 
did  not  cross  Barabant's  window-sill,  but  con- 
tented herself  with  an  inquiry  as  to  his  condition; 
nor  could  artifice  and  entreaty  retain  her  longer. 
The  next  day  she  did  not  appear  at  all. 

Barabant,  who  saw  in  her  absence  nothing  but 
coquetry,  was  furious  with  her,  with  himself, 
with  all  that  kept  him  to  his  bed.  The  lagging, 
still  hours  seemed  doubly  lagging  and  still  with 
the  memory  of  the  charm  which  the  presence  of 
the  girl  had  brought  to  the  bare  walls.  Time 
and  time  his  eyes  sought  the  empty  floor  where 
he  had  surprised  her  asleep;  and,  conjuring  up 

107 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

that  delightful  picture,  he  accused  himself  in  his 
unreasoning  irritation  for  not  having  simulated 
insensibility  throughout  the  day. 

Why  did  she  thus  avoid  him  ?  He  remem- 
bered their  first  encounter  with  Louison.  Was 
she  jealous  of  her  comrade,  or  was  it  simply  cal- 
culation ?  That  Nicole  should  think  of  playing 
the  coquette  annoyed  him  exceedingly.  He  had 
yielded  to  the  fascination  of  this  gipsy  from  the 
moment  she  had  taken  his  arm  in  the  gardens 
of  the  Palais  Royal  with  the  mischievous  "Bara- 
bant,  you  are  a  lucky  fellow,"  with  which  she 
had  opened  their  comradeship.  But  this  easy, 
pleasurable  interest  had  been  fanned  into  a 
passionate  flame  at  the  storming  of  the  Tuileries, 
where,  by  her  fire,  her  tempestuous  beauty,  and 
her  careless  laughter,  she  had  impressed  herself 
imperishably  on  his  imagination;  and  later  the 
thought  of  her  bearing  him  home,  of  her  nurs- 
ing, and  of  her  tenderness  had  invaded  his 
heart. 

With  the  rapture  of  the  first  unfolding  ro- 
mance he  abandoned  himself  utterly  to  the 
thought  of  her,  while  retaining  in  his  deeper  con- 
sciousness, as  undebatable,  that  limit  of  common 
sense  which  must  separate  the  man  of  education 
and  promise  from  a  daughter  of  the  people. 

The  thought  was  a  part  of  his  intuitions  rather 
108 


THE   FEAR   OF   HAPPINESS 

than  his  consciousness ;  for  in  his  simplicity  he 
believed  himself  utterly  unselfish  in  seeking  her, 
and  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  why  she  should 
have  changed. 

Neither  the  afternoon  nor  the  evening  brought 
any  sign  of  Nicole,  nor  during  the  next  day  could 
he  obtain  more  than  one  glimpse  of  her,  as  she 
departed  toward  the  flower-market.  Recovered 
from  his  exhaustion,  he  set  forth  on  the  following 
morning,  piqued  and  angry,  resolved  to  find  her 
and  force  an  explanation. 

He  searched  the  Palais  Royal  and  the  Tuileries 
without  success,  and  it  was  only  after  luncheon 
that,  passing  down  the  left  bank  of  the  Seine, 
he  found  her  near  the  Conciergerie. 

She  was  a  little  apart  from  the  throng,  strolling 
meditatively  by  the  river,  into  whose  swift  flood 
her  look  was  plunged.  The  half-depleted  basket, 
overrun  with  flowers,  dangled  from  her  arm, 
while  in  her  fingers  she  was  turning  a  cockade 
without  purpose.  Against  the  hot  August  foliage 
and  the  buildings  weltering  under  the  sun  there 
was  something  about  her  inexpressibly  cool  and 
refreshing  to  the  eye. 

The  meditative  abandon  of  her  pose  suggested 
all  at  once  to  Barabant  a  reason  for  her  absence, 
and  with  this  pleasing  thought  his  anger  yielded 
to  the  zest  of  the  eager  and  confident  lover. 

109 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

So  serious  was  her  reverie  that  she  was  unaware 
of  his  approach  until  his  greeting  startled  her. 

"Am  I  so  terrible,  Nicole,"  Barabant  asked, 
smiling  at  her  confusion,  "  that  you  find  it  ne- 
cessary to  avoid  me  ?  " 

She  rallied  quickly,  and  simulating  indecision, 
exclaimed : 

"  Why,  it  is  the  Citoyen  Barabant !  " 

Barabant  brought  his  brows  together  and  said, 
with  a  return  of  his  exasperation:  "Nicole,  why 
do  you  avoid  me  *?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  don't  avoid  you ;  I  do  not  seek  you  out." 

"  Nicole,  you  are  playing  with  me." 

She  again  shook  her  head. 

Barabant,  taking  her  wrist,  repeated  the  asser- 
tion. 

"  Barabant,  I  do  not  play  with  you,"  Nicole 
answered  earnestly. 

"  Then  why  have  you  avoided  me  ?  " 

He  waited  for  her  answer,  but  she  said  firmly: 

"  I  cannot  tell  you." 

"Assuredly  she  is  beginning  to  love  me," 
thought  Barabant,  and,  well  content,  did  not 
press  the  question.  They  strayed  a  little  from 
the  Conciergerie,  and  leaning  over  the  bank, 
contemplated  the  river  scenes  below,  following 
the  fortunes  of  the  languid  fishermen,  the  antics 

no 


THE   FEAR   OF   HAPPINESS 

of  a  kitten  that  romped  over  the  flat  decks 
herded  together,  and  the  glistening  backs  of 
boys  splashing  near  the  shore. 

"  Of  whom  were  you  thinking  so  seriously 
before  I  came  ?  "  Barabant  asked,  secure  in  his 
new  confidence.  He  sought  her  face,  hoping  to 
surprise  some  trace  of  confusion. 

"  I  was  wondering  how  it  would  seem  to  have 
a  mother,"  Nicole  answered.  She  crumbled  a 
flower  and  scattered  the  petals  on  the  wafting 
stir  of  the  air  before  she  turned.  "  But  then  we 
might  not  agree.  Perhaps  I  am  lucky.  What 
do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Such  reverie  for  a  mother  *?  " 

"Oh,  there  are  moments  when  one  has  such 
moods." 

"  I  had  hoped  you  were  thinking  of  me." 

"  Really  ?  "  She  lifted  her  eyebrows  slightly. 
"And  why?" 

Her  composure  routed  his  agreeable  theories 
and  plunged  him  into  perplexities.  So,  aban- 
doning his  confident  attitude,  he  exclaimed  vehe- 
mently : 

"  Nicole,  what  has  happened  ?  What  is  there 
— a  misunderstanding,  or  what  ?  Surely  you  will 
not  tell  me  that  it  is  natural  for  you  to  shun  me 
so  persistently.  I  will  be  answered !  " 

"  I  don't ;  I  don't.  I  will  not  have  you  saying 
ill 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

that ! "  She  seized  the  opportunity  of  a  passing 
party  of  muscadins — the  dandies  of  the  day  —  to 
offer  her  cockades.  On  her  return,  Barabant  said 
more  quietly : 

"  Listen  to  me,  Nicole.  You  misunderstand 
me;  I  do  not  upbraid  you.  I  want  to  thank 
you.  I  owe  you  much,  and  you  give  me  no 
opportunity  to  tell  you  of  my  gratitude.  That 
is  what  vexes  me.  Voyons,  Nicole,  we  had  be- 
gun so  well !  "  He  leaned  closer  and  said  mis- 
chievously :  "  Oh,  if  I  had  known  you  would 
leave,  I  would  have  remained  unconscious  all 
the  day.  I  've  cursed  myself  ever  since." 

He  laughed,  and  growing  bolder  as  he  per- 
ceived she  listened  without  displeasure,  he  poured 
into  her  ear,  in  one  breath  daring,  in  another  shy, 
a  thousand  and  one  of  those  vague,  delightful 
half-confidences  which  in  the  imagination  of  the 
lover  awaken  as  naturally  as  the  flowers  open  to 
the  sun. 

Nicole  could  not  but  listen.  She  assembled  a 
bouquet  and  pressed  her  face  against  it  to  screen 
her  pleasure  from  his  avid  scrutiny.  From  time 
to  time  she  turned,  and  looking  him  full  in  the 
face,  sought  to  read  there  the  true  value  of  his 
words.  But  almost  immediately  she  would  turn 
with  a  wistful  smile  of  unbelief  At  length  she 
checked  him,  saying,  with  reluctant  gentleness : 

112 


THE  FEAR   OF   HAPPINESS 

"  Enough,  Barabant.  Your  imagination  runs 
away  with  you.  You  do  not  know  your  own 
feelings." 

Barabant,  borne  on  by  the  ardor  of  his  emo- 
tions, retorted  point-blank : 

"  And  you,  do  you  know  yours  ?  " 

At  this  sudden  challenge,  Nicole  had  a  mo- 
ment of  confusion,  during  which  she  answered  at 
random : 

"  I  ?  "  But  immediately  regaining  her  compo- 
sure, she  added,  "  Perfectly." 

"You  evade  my  question." 

"  If  you  begin  like  that,  I  warn  you  I  will  not 
listen.  Besides,  I  am  neglecting  my  cockades." 

She  unslung  her  basket  and  again  accosted 
the  crowd.  Barabant,  after  the  first  outburst  of 
expostulation,  waited  moodily,  leaning  against  a 
tree,  his  gaze  lost  in  the  current.  The  moment 
Nicole  was  assured  of  his  abstraction,  she  hesi- 
tated no  longer,  but  slipping  through  the  throng, 
quickly  gained  her  liberty  among  distant  streets. 

She  knew  that  the  evasion  was  unwise,  expos- 
ing her  to  his  judgment  either  as  a  coquette  or  as 
fearing  to  betray  her  true  feelings  —  opinions 
which  she  did  not  wish  him  to  entertain.  She 
had  fled,  but  not  by  calculation.  She  had 
again  avoided  him,  and  yet  she  scarcely  under- 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

stood  why.  New  emotions  had  awakened  in 
her  a  commotion  that  disturbed  her  whole  theory 
of  life. 

Before,  with  happy  tolerance,  she  had  passed 
along  the  weary  road  of  poverty,  shrugging 
her  shoulders  at  hunger,  meeting  adversity  with 
a  smile,  expecting  two  or  three  attachments,  not 
deep;  delightful  while  lasting,  sharp  and  sadden- 
ing when  broken ;  but,  sad  or  sweet,  not  to  be  re- 
garded too  seriously, —  the  lot  of  life. 

She  had,  therefore,  welcomed  the  coming  of 
Barabant  with  the  pleasurable  anticipation  of  a 
delightful  comradeship.  That  she  could  retain 
him,  or,  in  all  probability,  would  care  to  retain 
him,  beyond  a  certain  term  never  occurred  to 
her.  As  to  the  question  of  marriage,  it  did  not 
for  a  moment  enter  her  head.  For  her  it  did 
not  exist. 

A  sigh  drawn  from  her  soul  as  she  stood  by 
his  bed  had  dissipated  all  that,  and  discovered  to 
her  immense  longings,  womanly,  motherly  neces- 
sities which  she  had  never  realized  before  and 
which  she  imperfectly  comprehended  now.  She 
perceived  him  no  longer  as  a  comrade,  but  as 
the  new  need  of  her  awakened  nature. 

She  had  imagined  love  as  impassioned,  head- 
long, and  impetuous,  and,  in  the  place  of  this 
ideal,  she  felt  only  the  confident,  weak  appeal 

114 


THE   FEAR   OF   HAPPINESS 

of  Barabant  to  her  ministering  tenderness.  The 
sensation  was  acute,  poignant,  disturbing;  the 
happiness  that  had  possessed  her  then  was  too 
big,  too  strange;  it  frightened  her.  She  feared 
such  a  transforming,  all-consuming  love.  To  give 
herself  utterly  thus  she  felt,  in  her  intuitions, 
would  mean  only  disaster.  So  she  fled  from 
herself,  trying  to  stifle  that  immense  emotion  to 
which  she  had  no  right, —  so  fraught  with  peril. 
So  when,  through  all  the  rumble  of  sound  and 
the  ceaseless  rabble  of  the  boulevards,  there  re- 
turned the  silent  room  under  the  eaves,  and  the 
feverish  smile  that  answered  to  her  soothing 
touch,  she  incessantly  cried  to  herself: 

"  No,  no.  I  would  love  him  too  much.  The 
end  would  crush  me." 

Little  vagrant  of  the  people,  she  knew  well 
what  that  end  inevitably  must  be. 


VIII 

THE    MOTHER    OF    LOUISON 

BARABANT,  baffled  and  incensed  at  Ni- 
cole's desertion,  vowed  that  he  would  be 
through  with  such  a  coquette.  Where  pride 
begins  there  is  a  limit  to  gratitude,  and  that  limit 
she  had  overstepped.  He  washed  his  hands  of 
her.  So,  having  decided  —  irrevocably  decided 
—  that  Nicole  had  removed  herself  from  any  in- 
terest of  his,  and  that  it  was  a  matter  of  indiffer- 
ence to  him  whether  or  not  he  saw  her  again, 
he  determined  to  bring  her  to  reason  by  paying 
attention  to  Louison. 

Accordingly  he  contrived  to  meet  her  in  the 
passageway  the  morning  after  his  unceremonious 
desertion  by  Nicole. 

"Salutations,  Citoyen  Barabant,"  Louison 
cried.  "No  luck  this  morning.  Nicole  has 
already  left." 

"  Nicole  is  out  of  the  question,"  he  retorted. 

"  What ! "  Louison  opened  her  eyes  in  as- 
tonishment. 

116 


THE   MOTHER   OF   LOUISON 

"  I  say,  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  Nicole," 
he  replied  coolly.  "  Where  are  you  bound  *?  " 

"  To  the  flower-market." 

"  I  understand  the  route  is  dangerous  at  this 
time  of  day." 

"  Exceedingly  dangerous." 

"  Then  I  had  better  accompany  you." 

"  I  think  you  had." 

With  this  light  introduction,  they  set  out 
through  the  stirring  city,  greeted  by  the  slam- 
ming of  opening  shutters,  and  escaping  the 
clouds  of  dust  that  rose  from  the  brooms  of 
concierges.  Louison  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  Well,  comrade,  and  how  goes  it  with  you  ?  " 

Barabant  affected  ignorance. 

"What,  is  it  not  serious  with  you  and  Ni- 
cole <?  " 

"  Serious  is  a  big  word,"  he  answered,  resolved 
not  to  yield  an  inch. 

"  I  see,  a  little  interest,  but  not — not  the  grand 
passion,  violent  and  sacred ! "  She  added,  with 
a  false  sigh,  "  Poor  Nicole,  it  is  serious  with 
her." 

"  Of  course." 

"  I  know  it." 

"You  imagine  it." 

"  I  know  it  by  one  sign :  she  is  jealous.  There 
you  are  !  "  She  laughed.  "  She  is  always  jealous 

117 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

of  me  when  it 's  serious.  This  time,  though,  there 
is  no  cause.  I  shall  not  interfere."  She  placed 
a  flower  to  her  lips  and  shot  a  quick  glance  up 
at  him.  "  Though  I  met  you  the  first." 

"  Do  I  count  for  nothing  —  or  my  prefer- 
ence?" 

"  Nini !  "  She  shook  one  finger  slowly  back 
and  forth.  "  Let  us  talk  of  other  things.  I  might 
unconsciously  break  my  promise." 

The  air  grew  fragrant  as  they  entered  a  square 
blotted  out  with  tents.  Masses  of  red  and  pink, 
of  white  and  yellow,  met  the  eye  through  sudden 
lanes  in  the  petticoat  crowd. 

"  Leave  me  now  to  my  bargaining,"  she  said. 
Stopping  in  the  perfumed  alley  at  a  tent,  where 
the  swinging  sign-board  bore  the  name  la  Mere 
Boboche,  she  cried  tartly :  "  Good  morning, 
citoyenne.  The  flowers  are  very  stale  this 
morning." 

A  thin,  bent  woman  turned  her  one  good  eye, 
and  recognizing  a  daily  opponent,  rose,  drawing 
in  her  lips  and  nodding. 

"  Eh,  they  are  dear  this  morning,  but  you  have 
brought  your  muscadin.  You  can  pay  well  to- 
day after  the  way  you  cheated  me  yesterday." 

"  He  is  my  brother,"  Louison  said  coldly,  turn- 
ing over  the  flowers. 

"Oui  da!"  La  Mere  Boboche  dropped  an 
118 


THE   MOTHER   OF   LOUISON 

anxious  glance  at  her  counter.  "  Is  n't  he  hand- 
some, though,  her  muscadin  V  What  arms,  what 
a  chest,  eh?  Solid  that !" 

Louison,  observing  that  Barabant  was  uneasy 
under  this  chaffing,  was  about  to  interpose  when 
a  shrill  voice  rose  in  taunt  from  the  opposite 
stall. 

"  What  a  monster  of  immorality !  Aliens,  la 
mere,  it 's  time  you  forgot  such  things." 

Instantly  the  two  enemies  let  loose  at  each 
other  floods  of  vituperation. 

"  Listen  to  the  evil  tongue ! " 

"  Hark  to  the  old  hen,  what  a  cackle  ! " 

"  Corrupter  of  youth ! " 

"  Cheat ! " 

"  Impostor ! " 

Louison,  profiting  by  the  outcry,  selected  her 
flowers  and  escaped  the  fray. 

"Now  for  some  white  ones  and  I  am  done. 
Aie,  what  a  jam ! " 

She  took  his  arm,  and  as  they  entered  the  press 
of -the  main  alley,  once  or  twice  was  swept  up 
against  him  with  great  force. 

"  Pardon ;  a'ie,  aie,  pardon !  What  a  scramble 
this  morning!"  She  was  swung  face  to  face  with 
her  protector,  her  eyes  matching  his  in  height. 
They  freed  themselves  and  reached  another 
shop. 

119 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

"  Thanks,  citoyen ;  your  arm  is  strong." 

Louison,  giving  a  look  of  admiration  at  his 
limbs,  began  her  bargaining.  Barabant,  though 
aware  of  the  artifices,  resisted  weakly  the  di- 
rect attack.  With  a  new  interest  he  studied 
the  liberty-cap  that  flamed  in  the  black,  sinewy 
wave  of  her  hair.  She  was  dressed  in  a  yellow 
bodice,  falling  to  a  short  skirt  of  light-blue 
fustian.  The  ankles  thus  revealed  were  shapely, 
and  attracted  the  eye  with  their  bright  bit  of  red 
stocking.  He  began  to  ask  himself  if  she  were 
not  really  beautiful,  as  he  watched  the  figure, 
unusually  erect,  every  motion  of  which  was  made 
with  grace  and  ease. 

Louison,  observing  Barabant's  study,  from  time 
to  time  turned  her  head  to  send  him  a  smile  over 
her  shoulder.  Occasionally  she  frowned  and,  as 
though  to  discourage  his  examination,  shook  her 
head. 

Barabant  forgot  the  curious  impression  she  first 
had  made  upon  him.  He  saw  only  a  face  with 
great  capabilities  of  expression :  mobile,  flexible, 
obeying  the  capricious  thought.  The  eyes  more 
than  ever  arrested  his  attention  and  baffled  it. 
They  opened  to  him  a  way ;  but  when  he  looked 
it  was  as  though  penetrating  into  a  vast  darkness. 

"  Why  do  you  look  at  me  so  ?  " 

Barabant  recovered  to  find  Louison  at  his  el- 

120 


THE  MOTHER   OF   LOUISON 

bow,  her  purchase  made,  regarding  him  with 
amusement. 

"  You  mystify  me,"  he  said  frankly.  "  There  is 
something  about  you  I  cannot  place.  What  is 
it?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Don't.     Besides — Nicole." 

"  You  have  been  very  solicitous  to  leave  me 
to  Nicole,"  he  said,  with  a  smile.  "  You  choose 
excellent  means  to  gain  your  end." 

He  had  expected  to  catch  her  confused  and 
blushing.  Instead,  she  discovered  a  row  of  white 
teeth,  and  nodding  her  head,  said : 

"Eh,  you  are  not  so  slow  after  all."  Before 
he  could  reply,  she  exclaimed,  "  Hello,  there  's 
mama ! " 

She  indicated  a  wig-maker's,  where,  on  the  door- 
step, a  woman  of  about  thirty-five  or  -six  was 
sitting,  carding  a  wig.  Despite  the  difference  of 
ages,  Barabant  noticed  a  similarity  in  the  color 
of  the  hair  and  in  the  span  of  the  eyebrows. 

"  Good  morning,  mother ! " 

The  woman  raised  her  head,  but  as  her  glance 
reached  them  started  back,  as  though  from  a  feel- 
ing of  repulsion,  and  immediately  dropped  her 
head. 

"  Thank  you,  I  am  well,"  Louison  cried  mock- 
ingly. "Good  day,  mother,  we  can't  stop." 

121 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

She  turned  in  perfect  good  humor  to  Barabant. 
"  There  Js  a  model  mother  for  you ;  no  trouble 
at  all ! " 

"  And  your  father  ? "  Barabant  inquired,  as 
much  struck  at  her  philosophic  attitude  as  at  the 
maternal  indifference. 

"  There  's  the  trouble,  voila."  She  held  her 
thumb-nail  against  her  teeth  and  clicked  it.  "  She 
has  never  been  willing  to  tell  me  his  name." 
She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  That  's  stupid, 
isn't  it?  Why  not?" 

Barabant  asked  her  curiously  how  long  they 
had  been  parted. 

"Since  I  was  five  years  old.  I  only  remem- 
ber some  dreadful  scene  at  home,  —  I  don't  know 
what,  —  and  all  at  once  her  manner  changed  to 
me.  The  next  day  she  drove  me  out." 

"  At  five  ?  " 

"Nothing  extraordinary  in  that,"  Louison  an- 
swered, surprised  at  his  astonishment.  "Ah,  you 
do  not  know  our  Paris.  She  married  soon  after; 
perhaps  it  was  for  that,  but  I  think  not."  She 
was  silent  a  moment.  "  I  think  she  discovered 
something  about  my  father:  that  he  was  an  abbe 
or  an  aristocrat." 

"  And  you  ?  " 

"  I  begged.  I  found  a  corner  in  the  cellar  at 
la  Mere  Corniche's.  You  have  never  been  in 

122 


THE   MOTHER   OF   LOUISON 

that  pleasant  abode  ? "  She  made  a  wry  face. 
"  There  are  rats ;  you  don't  get  much  sleep. 
Then  it  smells  bad  and  it  is  black;  though  of 
course  at  night  that  makes  no  difference.  I  did 
not  stay  there  long." 

"What  did  you  do?" 

"  Oh,  I  passed  from  corner  to  corner."  She 
stopped  in  the  square  and  seated  herself  on  a 
bench.  She  emptied  her  flowers  and  held  them 
out  to  Barabant.  "  Hold  these  while  I  make 
my  cockades.  I  passed  from  family  to  family.  I 
was  well  treated.  They  gave  me  a  crust  or  a 
bone,  and  let  me  crawl  into  a  corner  at  night. 
Of  course  I  worked.  It  was  interesting  !  "  She 
wove  the  flowers  deftly  into  cockades,  taking 
them  from  his  lap,  their  hands  brushing  each 
other  from  time  to  time.  "Does  that  amuse 
you  ?  Good.  Then  I  '11  continue.  At  ten  I 
began  to  sell  flowers,  and  then  they  treated  me 
better  —  I  shared  meals." 

"  What  a  life !  It  must  have  been  rough  at 
times  ?  "  Barabant  asked  the  question  not  with- 
out a  mixture  of  curiosity  in  his  pity. 

"Yes,  at  first."  She  returned  thoughtfully 
over  her  history.  "  But  I  stabbed  a  fellow  who 
was  annoying  me.  He  lived,  but  the  result  was 
just  as  good.  They  are  all  afraid  of  my  temper, 
and  there  is  no  protection  like  that."  She  rose, 

123 


IN   THE   NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

having  finished  the  cockades,  and  faced  him 
with  a  smile  in  which  struggled  a  temptation. 
"  You  know  I  have  a  temper ;  oh,  but  a  temper 
—  a  temper  to  make  your  hair  stand  on  end  !  " 

"  I  can  believe  it,"  Barabant  said,  studying  her. 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  ? "  she  asked  mis- 
chievously. 

Without  waiting  a  reply,  she  halted,  caught 
her  breath  a  little,  and  drew  back.  The  mouth 
dropped  open,  the  eyes  fixed  themselves.  Then 
by  the  sheer  power  of  her  will  she  banished 
the  blood  from  her  face.  The  lips  closed  in 
a  thin,  cruel  line,  the  nostrils  dilated,  while  in 
the  eyes  glowed  such  malignant,  tigerish  hatred 
that  Barabant,  with  an  oath,  sprang  backward, 
placing  the  bench  between  them. 

Immediately  a  low  laugh  rang  out.  The 
features  changed  from  the  hideousness  of  wrath 
to  a  look  of  amusement,  and  Louison,  again 
erect,  sidled  up  to  him  with  a  smile  lurking  in 
the  corners  of  her  lips. 

"Did  I  frighten  you?  I  like  to  do  that." 
Her  face  had  regained  its  composure,  but  it  was 
a  cold  constraint ;  she  was  still  pale  from  the  force 
of  the  emotion.  "  It  is  so  amusing  to  frighten 
people.  You  see,  I  am  able  to  protect  myself." 

**  That  I  can  believe,"  Barabant  cried,  finding 
his  voice.  "  It  is  unpleasant ! " 

124 


THE  MOTHER   OF   LOUISON 

"  Don't  be  frightened ;  I  reserve  that  for  my 
enemies.  I  know  how  to  please,  also." 

She  laughed,  amused  at  his  horror. 

"  And  now  I  must  get  to  selling  my  cock- 
ades. You  can  return  with  me  only  as  far  as 
the  Seine.  A  companion  such  as  you,  you 
understand,  would  never  do;  it  would  not  be 
professional." 

Arranging  her  cockades  in  the  basket,  which 
she  transferred  to  her  arm,  she  retraced  her  steps. 

"  Ah,  there  's  mama  again,"  she  exclaimed,  as 
they  neared  the  wig-maker's.  "  Let 's  see  if  she  '11 
greet  us  more  cordially." 

Suddenly  she  stopped  and,  with  a  gleam  of 
mischief,  caught  his  arm. 

"  I  have  an  idea.  Follow  me.  I  '11  make  her 
speak." 

They  approached  the  woman  on  the  step,  who, 
after  the  first  quick  glance,  abased  her  head 
without  further  recognition. 

"Good  morning,  mother." 

The  woman  continued  silently  to  card  the 
wig. 

"  Eh,  Mother  Baudrier !  It  is  I,  your  daughter 
—  Louison.  You  won't  answer"?  Good-by, 
then."  Louison  turned  as  though  to  leave,  call- 
ing back :  "  By  the  way,  I  've  discovered  my 
father." 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

The  woman,  with  a  cry,  staggered  to  her  feet, 
and,  choking  for  utterance,  fell  back  against  the 
house ;  while  in  her  eyes  was  the  wild  light  of 
abject  terror.  Then  perceiving  by  Louison's 
mocking  laugh  that  it  was  a  trick,  without  a 
word  she  gained  the  doorway  and  tottered  into 
the  house. 

Louison,  amazed  and  perplexed,  remained 
fastened  to  the  ground. 

"  Bon  Dieu,"  she  said  at  last,  thoughtfully, 
"  extraordinary !  Who  could  he  have  been  ?  " 

Barabant  echoed  the  question,  while  the  mem- 
ory of  the  scene  sank  into  his  mind,  and  with  it 
a  silent  resolve  to  investigate  the  mystery  further. 


IX 


THE    TURN    OF    JAVOGUES 

BARABANT  spent  the  remainder  of  the 
morning  in  rambling  through  the  mar- 
kets, skirting  the  shores  of  the  river,  seeking 
everywhere  the  thoughts  of  the  people,  listening 
to  their  ambitions,  their  desires,  and  their  hopes. 
Toward  noon  he  drifted  among  a  throng  of  masons 
who,  dispersing  languidly  over  blocks  of  stone, 
were  crowding  into  the  nearest  cafe. 

"  Salutations,  citoyens ! "  he  cried  to  them,  ac- 
cording to  the  custom  of  free  greetings  that  ob- 
tained. At  the  sight  of  the  sling  he  still  wore 
they  hailed  him  warmly,  asking: 

"You  got  that  at  the  Tuileries,  citoyen?" 

"  Why,  I  know  him,"  one  suddenly  exclaimed ; 
and  pushing  to  the  front,  he  cried,  "  You  are  the 
Citoyen  Barabant  who  spoke  so  well  in  the  Place 
de  la  Greve."  He  turned  to  his  comrades: 
"Aye,  he  can  talk,  too." 

"Bring  him  in!" 

"Citoyen,  eat  with  us." 
127 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

"  Yes,  join  us,  comrade,"  echoed  a  swarthy  Pic- 
ard,  throwing  his  arms  about  Barabant,  who, 
nothing  loath,  answered: 

"Gladly,  citoyens." 

They  took  possession  of  a  corner  in  the  cafe, 
calling  the  other  occupants — two  coal-carriers 
and  a  seller  of  lemonade. 

While  the  soup  was  devoured  one  or  another 
would  turn  to  Barabant  with  a  wink  or  a  laugh, 
crying: 

"It  was  glorious,  eh,  the  taking  of  the  Tui- 
leries?" 

"We  fought  well — the  Sans-Culottes." 

"The  fat  Louis  was  trembling  that  day!" 

As  they  fell  to  eating  their  long  loaves  of 
bread,  spread  with  cheese  and  washed  down  with 
an  execrable  mixture  of  wine  and  water,  groups 
of  two  or  three  sauntered  in,  to  smoke  and  dis- 
cuss, among  whom  Barabant  recognized  the 
Marseillais  who  had  borne  him  in  the  square. 
Javogues,  greeted  uproariously,  in  turn  perceived 
Barabant. 

"Why,  it  is  my  little  orator!"  he  cried,  and 
was  advancing  with  open  arms  to  infold  him  in  a 
bear-like  hug,  when  his  eyes  encountered  the  sling. 
"  Mordieu,"  he  exclaimed,  "  you  were  wounded !  " 

"  Slightly." 

Contenting  himself  with  a  wring  of  the  hand, 
128 


THE   TURN   OF  JAVOGUES 

Javogues  settled  his  body  into  a  seat  opposite, 
exclaiming :  "  There  is  a  patriot,  citoyens ;  I  '11 
vouch  for  him  ! " 

A  chorus  of  grunts  and  a  bobbing  of  heads 
showed  Barabant  the  value  of  such  an  indorse- 
ment. Across  the  table  his  companions  cried  to 
him: 

"  He  's  a  terrible  fellow,  eh,  the  Citoyen  Ja- 
vogues *?     No  hesitation  about  him." 
"  That  's  the  kind  of  men  we  want ! " 
They  finished  eating,  and  sprawled  back  to 
discuss. 

"  What  I  want  to  know  is,  where  are  we  go- 
ing ?  "  Javogues  demanded. 

"  We  are  going  nowhere ;  we  are  rooted." 
"The  Convention  does  nothing  but  discuss." 
"  What 's  the  use  of  overturning  the  throne, 
after  all?" 

"  We  must  have  the  Republic ! " 
"  What  say  you,  Citoyen  Barabant  ?  " 
"  I  say  no  step  backward ! "     A  lull  gave  him 
the  attention  of  the  room.     "  We  must  advance 
or  perish.     If  we  lack  in  daring,  we  deserve  to 
perish.     The  Revolution,  comrades,  as  I  see  it, 
is  not  against  an  unworthy  king  or  any  king :  it 
is  to  reconstruct  society.     Citoyens,  there  is  but 
one  true  end :  the  Nation  must  be  one  family. 
No  more  classes,  no  more  titles,  no  more  king, 
9  129 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

no  more  first  estate,  no  more  third  estate.  We 
are  brothers,  brothers  all  in  one  family  — 
France ! " 

"  There  's  the  word  !  "  Javogues  cried,  amid 
the  salvo  of  glasses  and  bravos  that  acclaimed 
the  speaker.  "  And  out  with  all  lying,  plotting 
priests ! " 

A  chorus  approved. 

"Right!" 

"  That 's  it ! " 

"  Now  you  're  talking ! " 

"  Curse  the  blackcoats  ! " 

"  What  has  kept  us  down  all  these  centuries  *? 
What?  Tell  me  that!  The  Church!  What 
has  been  the  ally  of  the  aristocrats  *?  The  Church  ! 
What  taught  us  to  be  content  with  our  lot,  with 
fetters,  with  a  crust,  with  the  yoke  of  taxation  *? 
The  Church!" 

"  Aye,  the  Church !  " 

"  Down  with  it !  " 

"  Down  with  the  lie  ! " 

"Bah,  the  Church!  the  Church!  I  too  was 
fool  enough  to  believe  in  it."  Javogues  swept 
his  huge  fist  over  their  heads,  and  crashing  it  upon 
the  table,  shouted,  "There  is  no  God  ! " 

A  few  mumbled  approval,  more  laughed,  while 
one  voice  cried : 

"  There  he  is  again,  with  his  God ! " 
130 


THE   TURN   OF  JAVOGUES 

"  I  tell  you,  it  is  with  such  superstitions  that 
they  enslave  us ! "  Javogues  drew  back,  defiant 
and  aroused,  and  assembling  his  anger,  he  thun- 
dered again,  as  though  to  bear  down  all  opposi- 
tion, "  There  is  no  God  !  " 

The  laughter  increased,  while  another  scoffer 
cried : 

"Well,  if  there  is,  he  does  us  little  good." 
To  this  all  agreed.    Barabant,  smiling,  added: 
"  Citoyen,  one  thing  at  a  time.    Let  us  depose 
Capet  first." 

They  arose  amid  laughter,  Javogues's  protests 
lost  in  the  confusion.  Barabant,  impelled  to  en- 
thusiasm by  the  ardor  of  these  laborers,  opened 
his  arms  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Comrades,  when  Frenchmen  are  united,  we 
fear  no  foreigner.  What  nation  has  ever  frater- 
nized as  we  ?  We  all  are  brothers,  all  working 
for  the  great  end.  When  we  grumble  at  delays, 
let  us  not  forget  what  the  Revolution  has  made 
us!" 

Then  the  voice  of  Javogues  arose  : 
"  Brothers,  before  we  separate,  let  us  embrace  ! " 
With  one  impulse,  such  as  countless  times 
animated  the  populace  in  these  days  of  exaltation, 
the  group  fell  into  one  another's  arms.    Javogues, 
extending  his  hands  covered  with  soot,  exclaimed: 
"  Glorious  emblems  !  " 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

Barabant  echoed  the  cry,  but  as  they  moved 
off  he  surreptitiously  brushed  away  the  stains, 
asking,  to  distract  his  companion's  attention : 

"And  Dossonville,  did  you  get  him?  " 

"  He  escaped  —  for  the  time." 

"  Are  you  sure  it  was  he  *?  Did  you  see  him 
again  ?  " 

"  What  difference  does  it  make  whether  I  saw 
him  or  not  ?  "  Javogues  answered  impatiently. 
"  I  know  he  was  there." 

"  How  *?  "  Barabant  asked,  in  astonishment. 

"  By  the  look  in  his  eyes  the  day  I  met  him. 
That  is  all  I  need  to  tell  an  aristocrat !  " 

Barabant,  seeing  the  impossibility  of  swaying 
the  fanatic  by  reason,  kept  silent  until  they  parted. 

In  the  Rue  Maugout,  la  Mere  Corniche  cried  to 
him  from  her  tenebrous  sentry-box : 

"One  moment,  citoyen."  The  window-hinges 
spoke  and  a  shadowy  head  appeared.  "  There  's 
a  tall  fellow  above  in  your  room." 

"  In  the  uniform  of  the  National  Guard  *? " 

"  That 's  it." 

Barabant,  who  had  left  Javogues  too  recently 
to  derive  any  pleasure  from  a  visit  of  Dosson- 
ville, was  hastening  away  when  again  the  queru- 
lous voice  halted  him. 

"  Not  so  fast,  citoyen." 

"  Well,  what  ?     I  'm  in  a  hurry." 


THE   TURN  OF  JAVOGUES 

"  You  've  seen  the  Citoyen  Marat  *?  " 

"Marat?" 

"  What !  you  've  not  presented  your  letter  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  letter ! '?  Barabant  cried,  and  hastily 
covering  his  mistake,  said :  "  But  that  was  days 
ago." 

"  You  did  n't  forget  to  speak  of  me  ?  " 

"  Come,  now,  la  Mere  Corniche,  I  'm  not  an 
ingrate ! " 

"  And  what  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  It  brought  tears  to  his  eyes." 

"Truly?" 

"  Pardi !  The  Citoyen  Marat  has  a  heart." 

Barabant,  on  the  staircase,  congratulated  him- 
self on  his  escape  from  a  bad  position,  little 
realizing  the  danger  of  the  present  one,  and  ex- 
cusing the  subterfuge  on  the  light  pretext  of 
giving  pleasure  to  the  old  woman.  He  hurriedly 
determined  to  say  nothing  to  Dossonville  of  his 
danger,  preferring  first  to  question  him. 

Dossonville,  the  greetings  over,  announced  his 
purpose  with  the  question: 

"Well,  young  pamphleteer,  what  have  you 
ready?" 

Barabant  replied  by  tapping  his  arm. 

"  I  see, —  at  the  Tuileries  ?  " 

"  You  were  there,  of  course  ?  " 

"  What  Frenchman  was  n't  ?  " 


IN   THE   NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

Barabant,  noticing  the  equivocation,  pressed 
him. 

"  With  what  section,  citoyen  ?  " 

"  I  was  with  no  section." 

"Within  or  without  the  Tuileries?" 

Dossonville  rose  up. 

"  Again !  I  thought  you  were  convinced  at 
Santerre's." 

"  You  do  not  answer  my  question,"  Barabant 
insisted. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  it  ?  " 

"  Because,  Citoyen  Dossonville,  there  are  those 
who  claim  to  have  seen  you  among  the  de- 
fenders." 

"  What 's  that  ?  Who  says  that  ?  "  At  once 
Dossonville  was  all  alertness. 

Barabant  repeated,  adding:  "  If  it  is  so,  citoyen, 
no  matter  for  what  reasons  you  were  present,  you 
cannot  ignore  the  danger  you  run  if  recognized." 

As  though  to  confirm  the  warning,  the  stairway 
suddenly  gave  out  the  hurried  fall  of  feet,  the 
door  opened,  and  Nicole  appeared,  breathless  and 
frightened. 

"Citoyen  Dossonville,"  she  cried,  "I  come  to 
warn  you  !  Javogues  is  below !  " 

Dossonville  threw  a  glance  to  the  window,  his 
hand  going  to  his  pistol.  Then  correcting  him- 
self, he  said : 


THE   TURN   OF  JAVOGUES 

"  So  this  is  your  trap,  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  a  spy,"  Barabant  disclaimed  in- 
dignantly. "  You  have  an  escape  by  the  roof; 
the  gutter  is  solid ;  once  opposite  —  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  Nicole  added ;  "  pass  into  my 
room,  through  the  hall,  and  out ! " 

"You  mistake  me,"  Dossonville  interrupted. 
"  I  have  nothing  to  fear.  Go  to  the  landing. 
They  may  stop  on  the  way." 

Barabant  obeyed.  Dossonville,  turning  his 
back,  snatched  a  paper  from  his  redingote,  rolled 
it  into  a  ball,  and  tossed  it  into  the  gutter. 

He  looked  a  moment  at  the  astonished  girl, 
then  shrugging  his  shoulders,  he  committed  him- 
self to  her  mercy  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 
Already  from  below  came  the  rush  of  feet. 
With  a  sudden  inspiration,  Dossonville  divested 
himself  of  his  pistols  and  sword,  laying  them 
conspicuously  on  the  bed.  Then  retreating  as 
far  away  as  the  room  permitted,  he  seated  him- 
self and  folded  his  arms,  facing  the  horrified  girl 
with  a  calm  smile,  as  though  to  say : 

"  Dispose  of  my  life ! " 

Nicole,  struggling  between  her  patriotism  and 
her  womanly  instincts,  heard  Barabant  calling  from 
the  landing: 

"Who  is  there  ?  " 

"  Javogues." 

135 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"  What  do  you  seek  ?  " 

The  next  moment  half  a  dozen  Marseillais 
stormed  into  the  room,  while  Javogues,  at  the 
head,  shouted: 

"  When  he  moves  to  escape,  shoot  him  down ! " 

But  on  the  instant  Dossonville,  erect  and  hold- 
ing out  his  hands,  cried  : 

"  I  am  unarmed ;  my  weapons  are  on  the  bed. 
I  submit.  There  is  no  need  of  murder.  What 
is  the  accusation  ?  " 

Javogues,  baffled  at  the  turn,  still  greedily 
covered  the  prisoner  with  his  pistol,  but  his  face 
showed  indecision  and  the  longing  for  a  pretext. 

"  Lower  your  pistol,"  Dossonville  continued 
calmly.  "  Citoyen  Barabant,  I  call  you  to  wit- 
ness that  I  surrendered  willingly  and  am  now 
under  the  protection  of  the  Nation.  On  what 
charges  do  you,  without  warrants,  arrest  an  officer 
of  the  National  Guard  ?  " 

Javogues  unwillingly  dropped  his  weapon. 
But  immediately,  his  anger  rising  at  being  so 
thwarted,  he  advanced  and,  as  though  to  crush 
his  enemy,  thundered  out : 

"  Dog  of  an  aristocrat !  I  '11  tell  you.  I  ar- 
rest you  for  firing  on  the  Nation  from  the  Tui- 
leries." 

"  What,  Citoyen  Javogues ! "  Barabant  cried 
indignantly.  "  If  you  have  taken  this  step  on 

136 


THE   TURN   OF   JA VOGUES 

the  evidence  you  gave  me,  I  declare  it  an  out- 
rage ! " 

One  of  the  band  spoke  up : 

"  I  saw  him,  too, — I,  with  my  own  eyes, — 
firing  on  us  with  the  Swiss." 

"  Citoyen,  you  are  mistaken,"  Dossonville  re- 
plied. Then  realizing  the  danger  he  ran,  he 
continued  rapidly,  "  At  what  hour  ?  " 

"  Nine  o'clock." 

"  At  nine  you  have  said  ! "  Dossonville  cried 
triumphantly,  extending  his  arms.  "Citoyens, 
I  demand  to  be  taken  at  once  to  prison.  The 
moment  such  an  accusation  is  made  I  insist 
upon  my  right  to  vindicate  myself.  At  nine 
o'clock  I  was  in  the  presence  of  the  Citoyen 
Marat.  Take  me  to  the  Abbaye  and  let  the 
Friend  of  the  People  answer  for  me.  Citoyen 
Barabant,  I  shall  need  you  too." 

The  effect  of  that  powerful  name  was  tremen- 
dous ;  even  Javogues  was  stunned  at  the  sudden 
counter,  and  sullenly  gave  the  order  to  descend. 
Even  Nicole,  tortured  by  the  crisis,  remained 
still  in  doubt.  She  made  a  step  forward  as 
though  to  reveal  what  she  had  seen,  but  meeting 
the  eye  of  the  prisoner,  she  halted  before  its  elo- 
quence, and,  bowing  her  head,  allowed  them  to 
pass.  Dossonville  signaled  Barabant  to  place 
himself  behind  him,  and  thus  they  plunged 

137 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

down  the  pit,  where  twice  Barabant  thought  he 
caught  the  sound  of  a  chuckle.  But  when  they 
emerged  into  daylight,  the  face  of  Dossonville 
remained  inscrutable. 

At  the  prison  of  the  Abbaye  they  entered 
without  difficulty.  There  the  gate  stood  open 
day  and  night.  At  the  desk,  when  the  accusa- 
tion had  been  read  and  the  alibi  announced,  Dos- 
sonville extended  his  hand  to  Barabant  and  said : 

"  Thanks,  citoyen.  You  need  trouble  yourself 
no  more." 

"  No  more  !  "  Barabant  exclaimed,  in  astonish- 
ment, for  he  had  expected  to  testify  to  the  meet- 
ing with  Santerre. 

Dossonville  smiled  grimly  and,  with  a  curious 
twist  of  his  back,  said : 

"My  back  itched  a  little  in  such  company, 
especially  in  that  devil's  descent  of  yours,  where 
little  slips  might  occur.  You  were  necessary  to 
my  peace  'of  mind !  Thanks,  citoyen." 

Then,  as  he  was  about  to  be  led  away,  he 
turned  to  the  turnkey  and  cried  rapidly . 

"Citoyen,  it  is  useless  to  disturb  the  good 
Friend  of  the  People.  He  will  pardon  me  if  I 
used  his  name  to  insure  a  hearing  before  a  properly 
constituted  court  of  justice."  Then  with  his 
silent,  parted  grin,  he  added,  "  My  true  defense 
I  shall  present  at  the  proper  time." 

-38 


THE   TURN   OF  JA VOGUES 

He  disappeared  in  custody,  not  before  he  had 
sent  a  glance  of  malicious  enjoyment  toward  his 
enemy,  who,  astounded,  did  not  immediately  re- 
cover. When  he  did,  it  was  with  the  rage  of 
the  wounded  lion  suddenly  surprised  by  the 
trap. 


139 


A    TRIUMPH    OF    INSTINCT 

HOlA  above,  Barabant." 
"  Hoi  a  below,  Goursac." 

"Come  down." 

"What  for?" 

"  Collenot  is  condemned.  We  're  going  to 
the  execution." 

"  What,  at  eight  o'clock  at  night  ?  " 

"  Immediately.  I  am  just  back  from  the 
trial." 

"I  'm  coming." 

The  Revolutionary  Tribunal,  inaugurated  two 
days  before,  had  deliberated  ever  since  upon  the 
fate  of  Collenot  d'Agremont,  seeking  to  fasten 
on  the  King  and  the  Court  the  onus  of  the  battle 
of  the  Tuileries.  But  beyond  Barabant's  desire  to 
see  the  execution  of  this  first  victim  of  the  anger 
of  the  Nation,  was  his  curiosity  to  witness  the 
second  installation  of  that  strange  machine  which 
had  carried  the  name  of  Dr.  Guillotin  beyond 
the  boundaries  of  France. 

140 


A   TRIUMPH   OF   INSTINCT 

"  And  your  Nicole  ?  "  Goursac  asked  when 
Barabant  had  joined  them.  "  Why  don't  you 
bring  her"?" 

"  She  's  not  in  her  room." 

"You  called  her?" 

"  Yes,  yes."  Barabant,  not  wishing  to  discover 
their  estrangement,  hastened  on :  "  Did  Collenot 
implicate  the  Court  ?  " 

"  He  would  say  nothing.  To  do  him  justice, 
he  was  very  firm." 

"And  the  Tribunal?" 

"  Impressive.  The  people  were  awed.  The 
judge  pronounced  an  eloquent  harangue, —  they 
always  do."  He  flung  out  his  arm  and  repeated 
sarcastically :  " '  Victim  of  the  law,  could  you  but 
read  the  hearts  of  your  judges  you  would  find 
them  crushed  and  saddened.  Go  to  your  death 
courageously.  The  Nation  demands  from  you 
nothing  but  a  sincere  repentance.'  " 

"  That 's  well  put !  " 

"  Repentance  —  and  your  head !  "  Goursac 
amended  sarcastically.  "  What  an  absurdity !  " 

"Not  at  all,"  retorted  Barabant,  disciple  of 
Rousseau  and  the  sentimentalists.  "  The  Nation 
mourning  and  forgiving  its  enemies,  even  when 
pronouncing  sentence,  is  a  spectacle,  I  say,  that 
is  sublime." 

"  Bah  !     What  good  is  sentiment  when  you 
141 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

lack  a  head  ?  No,  no.  These  grandiloquent 
harangues  of  mercy  and  advice  disgust  me.  They 
are  nothing  but  self-advertisement.  If  I  were  a 
judge,  I  'd  say : 

" '  Collenot,  my  friend,  the  Nation  has  proved 
you  guilty;  I  pronounce  upon  you  sentence  of 
death;  for  further  details  consult  Monsieur  de 
Paris.  Bon  voyage  ! ' : 

"  And  the  guillotine,  Citoyen  Goursac :  do 
you  find  it  insincere  to  despatch  an  enemy  with 
the  least  pain  *?  " 

"  Ah,  the  guillotine  !  There  is  a  tremendous 
advance  in  human  thought !  "  Goursac  exclaimed, 
without  deigning  to  open  an  argument.  "  There 
is  something  to  be  proud  of.  I  foresee  great  in- 
novations from  this  simple  invention.  To  have 
learned  to  suppress  human  life  painlessly  is  a  true 
sentimental  advance.  We  shall  go  further." 

Barabant,  seeing  that  he  was  started  on  his  theo- 
ries, said  good-humoredly : 

"  Well,  what  next  ?  " 

"  The  day  will  come  when  society  will  regard 
it  as  a  crime  to  allow  children  to  grow  up  who 
are  hopelessly  destined  to  suffering  —  such  as 
weaklings,  monsters,  hunchbacks,  and  the  other 
deformed.  The  State  will  suppress  them." 

His  companion  groaned  in  horror. 

"  More  than  that,"  Goursac  contended,  "  the 
142 


A   TRIUMPH   OF   INSTINCT 

day  will  come  when  the  aged,  the  infirm,  the  de- 
crepit, the  mortally  stricken,  will  be  painlessly 
released  from  their  suffering.  Yes,  death,  when 
inevitable,  will  be  made  instantaneous,  and  so- 
ciety will  approve." 

"And  how  soon  do  you  expect  this  magnifi- 
cent idea  to  fructify  ? "  Barabant  asked  scorn- 
fully. 

"  In  about  two  thousand  years,"  Goursac  an- 
swered, with  a  hitch  of  his  head.  "  That  is  the 
time  necessary  for  an  idea  to  conquer  society." 

"My  dear  friend,  you  are  either  joking  or 
mad." 

"  The  condition  of  prophecy  is  to  be  scorned," 
the  theorist  said  dryly.  "You  remember  Cas- 
sandra." 

They  entered  the  Place  du  Carrousel,  where 
the  guillotine,  whether  by  conscious  or  uncon- 
scious irony,  was  established  under  the  frowning 
shadows  of  the  abode  of  kings.  The  dim  square 
was  hidden  by  a  loose,  shifting  network  of  varie- 
gated colors  dominated  by  the  bright  flecks  of 
countless  liberty-caps,  which,  in  measure,  as 
new  groups  arrived,  contracted  into  mists  of  red. 
Above  this  bobbing  field  of  heads  two  thin  shafts 
started  upward,  nearly  lost  in  the  descending  dusk. 
Goursac,  extending  his  hand  in  the  direction  of 
these,  said  : 

H3 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"  There  is  the  guillotine." 

"  It  does  not  seem  very  terrible,"  answered  Bar- 
abant.  "  Let  us  stay  here ;  it  is,  perhaps,  a  false 
report.  In  ten  minutes  it  will  be  too  dark." 

Others  with  the  same  idea  lingered  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  crowd  or  turned  away.  The  faces 
of  the  throng  could  no  longer  be  distinguished, 
when  suddenly  afar  there  sprang  up  a  circle  of 
torches,  and  the  scaffold  emerged  from  the  night. 

The  two  friends  hastily  made  their  way  through 
the  crowd  until,  at  the  end  of  twenty  minutes'  pa- 
tient endeavor,  they  reached  the  foremost  ranks. 
A  calm  spread  among  the  unseen  throng,  broken 
by  sudden  tensions  at  each  new  alarm.  The 
people,  who  had  greeted  the  first  appearance  of 
the  guillotine  with  cries  of  disappointment  and 
demands  for  the  more  spectacular  gallows,  were 
now  impressed  by  the  cloak  of  mystery  the  night 
drew  about  the  scaffold.  The  machine  was  no 
longer  mere  wood  and  iron;  it  had  tasted  blood: 
it  was  human. 

Barabant,  from  his  position  of  vantage,  could 
distinguish  the  upright  shafts,  where  from  time 
to  time,  as  Goursac  explained  the  mechanism, 
some  reflection  from  a  torch  falling  on  the  knife 
above,  there  appeared  the  dull  display  of  steel 
like  the  sudden  threat  of  a  brutish  fang. 

Turning  from  the  scaffold,  Barabant  examined 
144 


A   TRIUMPH   OF   INSTINCT 

the  crowd,  where,  seeking  for  Nicole,  he  per- 
ceived Louison  worming  her  way  toward  them. 

Suddenly  a  whisper  ran  over  the  heads  and 
rose  to  a  breeze  of  exclamations.  The  masses 
tightened.  Those  in  front  were  swept  against  the 
guards  as  those  behind  surged  forward,  stretching 
to  tiptoe.  Louison,  caught  in  the  press,  was  im- 
prisoned not  twenty  feet  away.  This  time  the 
alarm  was  not  vain.  From  all  sides  burst  the 
growl  of  the  mob. 

"Hu!  hu!  hu!" 

A  long,  tedious  moment  succeeded,  then  sud- 
denly the  scaffold  swarmed  with  dark  figures.  The 
hooting  and  the  screeching  gave  place  to  a  burst 
of  hand-clapping.  Barabant,  astonished  at  the  im- 
placable ferocity  of  the  crowd,  turned  to  examine 
it,  but  his  eye  encountering  Louison,  remained 
there. 

The  radiance  of  a  neighboring  torch  redeemed 
her  figure  from  the  obscurity.  Her  head  was 
strained  slightly  forward,  while  one  hand  clutched 
the  kerchief  at  her  throat  as  though  to  restrain 
her  eagerness.  The  lips  were  parted,  the  eyes 
glowed  with  the  intensity  of  fascinated  con- 
templation, but  her  whole  figure,  in  contrast  to 
the  unbridled  passions  of  the  crowd,  remained, 
as  during  the  attack  on  the  Tuileries,  controlled 
and  insensible. 

145 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

So  unnatural  was  her  attitude  that  Barabant 
could  not  have  averted  his  eyes  had  not  the  hand 
of  Goursac  recalled  him  to  the  drama  before  him. 
He  sought  in  the  gloom  and  the  shadows,  seeing 
nothing,  until  suddenly  out  of  the  darkness  came 
the  shoot  and  the  thud  of  the  knife. 

A  woman,  with  a  cry,  caught  his  arm,  burying 
her  head  in  his  sleeve.  Another  woman,  holding 
a  baby,  was  shouting  wildly : 

"Bravo!  Bravo!" 

A  tottering  veteran,  in  the  costume  of  the  In- 
valides,  questioned  him  eagerly  : 

"  Is  it  over?     Tell  me,  citoyen,  is  it  over?  " 

The  woman  on  his  arm  continued  to  gasp 
hysterically.  Himself  recoiling  at  this  death  out 
of  the  darkness,  he  returned  to  the  contemplation 
of  Louison. 

Her  pose  had  relaxed,  while  a  slight  smile  of 
disdain  appeared  as  she  watched  the  frantic  crowd 
acclaim  the  head  which  a  bourreau  held  to  them. 
On  her  face  was  neither  horror  nor  anger,  neither 
disgust  nor  passion.  As  calmly  as  though  before 
her  own  mirror,  she  smoothed  out  her  dress  and 
replaced  the  cockade,  torn  by  the  contact  of  the 
crowd,  with  a  fresh  one  from  her  basket,  scent- 
ing first  its  perfume.  She  raised  her  eyes,  and 
her  glance  met  that  of  Barabant,  overcome  with 
disgust.  She  frowned,  and  turning  her  shoulder, 

146 


A   TRIUMPH   OF   INSTINCT 

was  lost  in  the  crowd  which  now  flowed  out  in 
widening  circles. 

"  What  is  there  about  her ! "  Barabant  ex- 
claimed, turning  to  Goursac. 

"  About  whom  ?  " 

"  Louison,"  he  said  impatiently.  "  You  did 
not  see  her  ?  She  made  me  shiver !  " 

"  She  affects  me  like  a  snake,"  Goursac  an- 
swered. "  She  is  a  creature  of  the  night,  in  her 
element  at  such  a  time.  They  say  she  never 
misses  an  execution.  "  Well,  citoyen,  what  of 
the  machine  *?  " 

"  Horrible  ! " 

"You  are  wrong,"  Goursac  protested.  "  It 
does  not  take  life :  it  suppresses  it,  and  that  by  a 
process  more  charitable  than  natural  death.  That 
is  the  way  a  nation  should  avenge  itself."  He 
repeated  several  times  in  a  transport  of  enthusi- 
asm, "  Magnificent ! " 

"  There,  look  at  it  now!" 

At  Barabant's  summons  they  paused  at  the 
gate,  looking  back  at  the  dim  circle  of  lights 
around  the  guillotine  unseen  but  divined,  while 
Barabant  continued  : 

"  The  first  time  did  not  count  —  it  was  only  a 
thief.  To-night  is  the  true  beginning  of  the 
guillotine  —  a  sinister  and  ominous  begin- 
ning." 

H7 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"  Still,  what  a  spectacle ! "  Goursac  exclaimed. 
"  What  could  be  more  dramatic  ?  " 

"  Too  much  so,"  Barabant  retorted.  "  I  admit  I 
am  impressionable,  but  to-night  the  blow  seemed 
to  fall  from  above  our  own  heads." 

"You  are  superstitious.  You  will  be  telling 
me  next  that  you  had  a  premonition  about  your 
own  neck." 

"  Hardly ;  but,  my  friend,  yours  is  so  long  and 
the  chances  of  politics  are  so  many  —  " 

"Don't  trouble  yourself,"repliedGoursac,laugh- 
ing,  and  with  a  mock  gesture  he  extended  his  fist. 
"  As  for  my  neck,  Madame  Guillotine,  I  defy  you 
to  take  it."  He  turned  to  Barabant.  "  You,  my 
friend,  are  so  gallant  that  I  won't  answer  for  yours." 

They  passed  into  the  Rue  Royale,  Goursac 
slightly  in  advance.  Barabant,  rubbing  shoul- 
ders with  the  departing  crowd,  felt  a  pull  on  his 
arm  and  heard  the  voice  of  Nicole  saying  mis- 
chievously : 

"  Barabant,  are  you  very  angry  with  me  ?  " 

Too  astonished  to  make  answer,  he  remained 
dumbly  gazing  into  the  teasing  countenance  ;  but 
at  that  moment  Goursac,  perceiving  them, 
called  out  indulgently : 

"  That 's  right,  children ;  we  don't  live  long 
enough  for  lovers  to  quarrel.  I  '11  keep  dis- 
creetly ahead." 

148 


A   TRIUMPH   OF   INSTINCT 

Barabant  persisting  in  his  silence,  Nicole  con- 
tinued pleadingly : 

"  Then  you  are  still  angry  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  am  sorry." 

She  said  it  in  such  a  gentle  tone,  sighing 
slightly,  that  Barabant's  anger  held  no  longer; 
still,  as  a  measure  of  policy,  he  kept  silent. 

Goursac,  preparing  to  wheel  into  a  side  street, 
called  back,  with  a  laugh  of  which  only  Nicole 
could  guess  the  cost : 

"  Good-by,  my  children ;  I  leave  you  in  peace. 
Love-making  is  disconcerting  to  the  older  gen- 
eration. Reconcile  yourselves  quickly." 

Barabant  and  Nicole,  thus  left  to  themselves, 
continued  arm  in  arm  silently  homeward,  avoid- 
ing the  thronged  thoroughfares,  the  noise  and 
the  lights,  plunging  by  preference  down  quiet 
ways  where  only  an  occasional  window  reddened 
the  sides  of  the  night.  Barabant  struggled  to 
maintain  his  just  anger ;  Nicole,  who  had  yielded 
to  an  impulse  in  accosting  him,  searched  for 
some  means  to  regain  the  ground  which  she  felt 
she  had  surrendered. 

"You  don't  answer,"  she  said  at  last,  withdraw- 
ing her  arm  half-way.  "  You  want  me  to  go  *?  " 

He  freed  himself  brusquely  and  faced  her  with 
the  angry  cry : 

149 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

"  Coquette ! " 

"  No,  that  I  am  not ! "  she  cried,  and  seizing 
his  arm,  she  said  rapidly :  "  Barabant,  it  is  not 
true.  You  have  no  right  to  say  that !  " 

"  You  have  a  right  to  be  what  you  wish." 

Nicole,  checking  herself,  said  sadly  : 

"  You  still  believe  I  am  playing  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  do." 

She  withdrew  a  step  and  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  it  is  not  you  I  am  playing  with." 

Barabant,  who  did  not  fathom  the  allusion, 
started  to  ask  her  what  she  meant ;  but  Nicole, 
immediately  perceiving  the  danger,  retreated 
from  her  serious  mood,  and  slipping  her  arm 
through  his,  said  imperiously  as  they  started  on : 

"  Barabant,  have  you  ever  been  in  love  —  se- 
riously in  love  *?  " 

"  Oh ! " 

"  But  seriously  ?  " 

"No." 

"  I  was  sure  of  it." 

"  And  why  %  "  Barabant  demanded,  nettled  at 
her  assumption. 

"Because  you  understand  nothing  of  a  woman." 
She  continued  rapidly :  "  Listen  to  reason,  my 
friend.  You  assume  rights  over  me  and  my 
actions,  and  yet  what  right  have  you  *?  You 
have  never  once  told  me  that  you  love  me.  Yet 

150 


A   TRIUMPH   OF   INSTINCT 

you  are  angry  because  I  insist  upon  being  wooed, 
foolish,  ignorant  fellow !  " 

Her  reproof,  which  she  designed  to  be  heavy, 
weakened  despite  herself,  until  at  the  end  she 
pronounced  it  almost  caressingly. 

"Is  that  just,  Nicole1?"  Barabant  cried,  seizing 
the  opening.  "  Why  am  I  angry  *?  Because  you 
will  not  give  me  the  opportunity."  He  drew 
her  closer  to  him.  "Nicole,  listen  to  me  but 
once." 

"  No,  no,"  she  checked  him  imperiously,  **  I 
do  not  wish  to.  You  are  too  headlong.  Bara- 
bant, I  tell  you,  you  do  not  know  yourself." 

"  I— I  don't  know  what  I  feel?" 

She  checked  him  again. 

"  If  you  do,  then  respect  my  wishes."  She 
added  almost  pleadingly:  "Not  too  fast,  Bara- 
bant. Be  reasonable  and  I  will  not  avoid  you 
again."  Then  peremptorily  changing  the  sub- 
ject :  "  Did  you  see  Louison  ?  She  is  always  at 
an  execution." 

He  accepted  the  turn  reluctantly. 

"  I  saw  her." 

"  How  did  she  affect  you  *?  " 

'*  Like  a  snake,"  he  answered,  using  Goursac's 
expression.  "  There  is  something  about  her  that 
repels  me." 

"  I  was   afraid  she  might  attract   you,"  she 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

confessed,  with  a  laugh,  in  which  showed  a  little 
relief. 

At  No.  38  they  groped  into  the  entrance,  feel- 
ing the  walls  with  their  hands.  The  crow  set 
up  a  raucous  crying,  while  la  Mere  Corniche 
appeared  at  the  door,  shading  her  candle  to  dis- 
cover their  approach.  They  passed  on  through 
the  first  court  to  the  bottom  of  the  staircase, 
where  a  single  torch  flickered  in  its  bracket. 
Nicole  held  out  her  hand,  averting  her  face. 

"Good  night,  Barabant,  and  until  to-mor- 
row." 

The  hour,  the  place,  the  torch  that  allowed 
her  body  to  melt  into  the  shadow  and  illuminated 
only  the  eyes,  the  lips,  and  the  smile  that  tempted 
him  with  the  mystery  of  what  it  hid,  overcame 
his  resolutions.  He  caught  her  by  the  wrists 
and  drew  her  toward  him.  Nicole  gave  a  little 
cry,  resisting  feebly. 

"  I  cannot  understand  you,"  he  cried  fiercely. 
"  What  are  you '?  What  do  you  feel  ?  Do  you 
love  me  or  do  you  not  ?  " 

She  answered  faintly,  struggling  against  his 
arms: 

"  Let  me  go." 

"Nicole,  dear  Nicole,  I  love  you,  I  adore 
you." 

"  No,  no,  no ! " 

152 


A   TRIUMPH   OF   INSTINCT 

He  released  her,  and  throwing  himself  at  her 
feet,  he  stretched  up  his  hands  to  her,  crying : 

"Look,  look!" 

Nicole,  with  her  hand  to  her  cheek  half  turned 
from  him,  could  not  but  believe.  In  his  eyes 
she  saw  the  tears  appear,  and  moved,  despite 
herself,  by  his  emotion,  she  took  his  forehead  be- 
tween her  palms,  saying  softly : 

"  Calm  thyself,  Barabant." 

"  You  love  me ;  you  do,  you  do ! "  he  cried. 
He  caught  her  hand  in  his  and  repeated,  as  only 
the  lover  knows  how :  "  I  love  you !  I  love  you ! 
I  love  you ! " 

She  pressed  her  hands  to  her  eyes  to  steady 
herself. 

"  And  how  long  will  it  last  ? "  she  said  sol- 
emnly, her  voice  reverberating  in  the  hollow  of 
the  silent  hall.  "Three  months,  Barabant?  And 
then  —  " 

"For  life  — forever!" 

Nicole  shook  her  head  incredulously,  but  her 
breast  rose  in  long,  tumultuous  breaths,  trem- 
bling with  the  memory  of  the  word. 

He  mounted  the  stairs,  turned  and  held  out 
his  hand  to  her.  She  dared  not  look  at  him,  for 
victory  was  in  his  eyes. 

"  Nicole,  Nicole ! " 

Then  she  looked  at  him,  her  hands  to  her 

153 


IN    THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

throat,  fallen  back  against  the  wall.  He  smiled 
to  her,  waiting  confidently.  Up  the  dark  ascent 
was  love,  mystery,  anguish,  jealousy,  doubt, — 
but  always  love. 

She  moved  a  step  toward  him,  fascinated  and 
drawn  on,  until  their  fingers  touched.  Then 
suddenly  she  shrank  away,  and  with  a  cry, 
spreading  out  her  hands  to  screen  him  from  her 
sight,  she  fled.  Only  the  instinct  had  survived, 
but  the  instinct  had  conquered. 


154 


XI 

THE    MAN    WITH    THE    LANTERN 

THEN  between  Nicole  and  Barabant  began 
one  of  those  subtle  conflicts  of  the  sexes 
in  which  the  one  who  loves  the  more  unselfishly 
is  foredoomed  to  defeat.  Until  the  night  of  the 
execution  Nicole  had  combated  the  very  thought 
of  love.  Her  flight  at  the  staircase  was  the  last 
spark  of  resistance.  She  had  drunk  of  the  cup, 
the  poison  was  in  her  veins.  The  next  morning 
she  resigned  herself  to  the  bitter,  determined, 
cost  what  it  might,  to  have  her  hour  of  happi- 
ness. 

She  gave  up  the  struggle  against  herself,  but 
began  another  to  safeguard  her  happiness.  Her 
intuitions  told  her  to  resist  —  that  the  longer  he 
was  compelled  to  woo,  the  more  he  would  prize 
her.  In  her  uneasy  doubts  she  had  recourse  to 
coquetry,  but  that  coquetry  which  is  unselfish 
and  pathetic,  and  is  nothing  but  the  instinct  of 
self-preservation. 

155 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

To  Barabant,  who  neither  knew  the  depth  of 
her  longings,  nor  could  have  understood  them 
had  he  known,  the  hesitation  and  delays  of  Ni- 
cole were  incomprehensible.  Resolved  to  meet 
her  with  like  tactics,  he  assumed  toward  her  the 
attitude  of  a  comrade,  avoiding  all  expression  of 
sentiment. 

Nicole  readily  fathomed  the  artifice.  She  coun- 
tered by  an  equal  show  of  indifference,  leaving 
him  always  after  a  moment's  conversation.  Bara- 
bant retaliated  by  devoting  himself  anew  to 
Louison. 

The  manceuver  brought  Nicole  back.  It  was 
the  one  move  she  had  not  foreseen.  It  threw 
her  into  a  panic  of  jealousy.  Not  that  she  did 
not  understand  his  motive,  but  she  feared,  from 
his  being  thrown  with  Louison,  results  of  which 
he  had  no  thought.  She  admitted  her  mistake 
and  relinquished  the  struggle.  She  returned 
uneasily  to  him,  showing  him  from  time  to  time, 
by  a  word  or  gesture,  that  he  had  only  to  ask. 
Barabant,  blind  to  the  extent  of  the  change, 
though  instinctively  perceiving  its  import,  re- 
doubled his  attentions  to  Louison;  treating  Ni- 
cole always  as  a  comrade,  hailing  her  joyfully, 
gay  and  charming  in  her  company,  but  saying 
never  a  word  of  what  she  now  impatiently 
sought. 


THE   MAN   WITH   THE  LANTERN 

Meanwhile  events  had  been  hurrying  on  the 
inevitable  conflict  between  the  Commune  and 
the  Convention.  On  the  25th  of  August  the 
news  of  the  treacherous  surrender  of  Longwy  to 
the  Prussian  army  ran  through  the  arteries  of 
Paris  as  an  inflaming  poison.  The  Nation  rose 
from  the  fall  in  the  fury  of  its  anger  and  wounded 
pride.  From  the  windows  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville 
an  immense  banner  rolled  its  folds  over  the  city, 
bearing  the  inspiring  inscription : 

"  The  Fatherland  is  in  danger ! " 

From  all  sides  recruits  rushed  in  to  swell  the 
legions  of  defense.  The  city,  as  though  the 
enemy  were  already  at  its  gates,  converted  itself 
into  a  camp,  established  posts  and  sentries,  while 
at  all  hours  the  streets  shook  under  the  footfall 
of  passing  patrols.  Searching  parties  ran  from 
house  to  house,  rilling  the  prisons  with  suspected 
aristocrats. 

The  Convention,  urged  to  abolish  the  mon- 
archy and  establish  the  Republic,  hesitated.  Only 
the  Commune  was  resolute,  vociferous,  and  im- 
placable, shouting  for  the  massacre  of  the  traitors 
at  home  before  marching  against  those  abroad. 

Lafayette  deserting,  Verdun  rumored  betrayed, 
traitors  everywhere,  —  in  the  army  of  Brunswick, 
in  the  Assembly,  in  Paris,  —  nothing  but  a  great 
example  could  strike  terror  in  the  hearts  of 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

aristocrats  at  home  and  abroad.  What  that 
example  was,  so  clamorously  demanded,  few 
doubted  who  beheld  the  frenzied  crowds  that 
infested  the  gates  of  the  prisons,  gloating  over 
the  list  of  prisoners  there  exposed. 

In  the  midst  of  these  alarms,  to  the  dismay 
of  Goursac,  Javogues  took  up  his  residence  in  the 
landing  below  them.  Shortly  after,  Nicole  re- 
ported another  disquieting  fact :  la  Mere  Cor- 
niche  had  closed  her  cellar,  refusing  admission  to 
all.  Occasionally  Bafabant  saw  Javogues  run- 
ning the  streets  at  the  head  of  searching  parties, 
in  a  whirlwind  of  disheveled  forms  and  rushing 
torches,  while  the  room  of  the  Marseillais  was 
filled  with  uncouth  figures  in  secret  gathering,  of 
whose  character  Barabant,  knowing  the  tempera- 
ment of  Javogues,  had  no  doubt. 

On  the  night  of  the  1st  of  September  Bara- 
bant, who  had  enrolled  for  the  defense  of  the 
city,  began  his  patrol  at  the  junction  of  the  Rue 
St.  Antoine  and  the  great,  gloomy  square  where 
had  stood  the  fortress  of  the  Bastille.  The  mass 
of  citizens,  foreseeing  the  massacre  on  the  mor- 
row, had  retired  early,  barring  the  doors,  leaving 
the  streets  to  be  swept  by  restless  bands  of  the 
lawless :  vultures  stirred  up  by  the  prospect  of 
carrion. 

The  hours  lagged,  and  the  tramp  of  his  step 

158 


THE   MAN   WITH   THE   LANTERN 

seemed  endless  to  Barabant.  His  reflections 
were  bitter;  for  him,  the  Girondin,  it  was  not 
simply  the  massacre  of  aristocrats,  but  the  fall 
of  his  party,  that  he  apprehended. 

At  twelve  Nicole  was  to  join  him  for  the 
remaining  hour.  There  was  still  three  quarters 
of  an  hour  before  she  would  come.  The  increas- 
ing sound  of  voices  restored  him  to  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  trust. 

Soon  a  party  of  five  emerged,  preceded  by  a 
small  muffled  figure  gliding  with  feverish  steps 
ahead,  as  a  flame  devours  its  path.  Barabant,  fol- 
lowing them  on  his  beat,  strove  to  recall  the 
familiar  stride  of  the  leader.  The  patrol  approach- 
ing him  from  the  opposite  direction  cried : 

"  Is  it  you,  Citoyen  Sentry  ?  " 

The  figure  advancing  assumed  human  shape. 

'"  He,  you  are  alone  to-night  ?  " 

"  Until  twelve." 

"  You  are  lucky."  He  shifted  his  musket  and 
laughed.  "  Mine  leaves  me  alone  to-night.  We 
had  a  bit  of  a  quarrel.  I  had  to  break  a  bottle 
over  her  head.  And  now,  the  devil  take  it!  I 
have  to  stand  guard  alone."  He  added  angrily : 
"  That 's  the  way  with  women." 

"  One  moment,  citoyen.  You  saw  the  party 
pass  just  now  *?  " 

"  Aye.     Did  you  not  recognize  him  *?  " 

159 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"Who?" 

"  Some  one  who  '11  be  busy  to-night, —  the 
Citoyen  Marat."  He  raised  his  voice  cheerily 
and  sang: 

"  Ah,  ca  ira,  53  ira,  93  ira  ; 
Les  aristocrates  a  la  lanterne! 
Ah,  £a  ira,  93  ira,  ca  ira  ; 
Les  aristocrates  on  les  pendra. 

"  By  to-morrow  night  there  '11  be  no  need  of 
sentries ! "  he  broke  off.  "  It 's  long,  eh,  when 
there  's  no  one  to  keep  you  company?  The 
devil  take  the  woman ! "  He  shouldered  his 
musket.  "  Citoyen,  Salut  et  Fraternite." 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  joined  the  darkness, 
while  back  came  the  unmusical  voice : 

"Dansons  la  carmagnole, 
Vive  le  son,  vive  le  son  ! 
Dansons  la  carmagnole, 
Vive  le  son — " 

The  rest  lost  itself  faintly  among  distant  roofs. 

Barabant,  recommencing  his  tedious  pacing, 
returned  to  the  Rue  St.  Antoine,  where  the  sound 
of  light  footsteps  warned  him  of  the  approach  of 
a  woman  or  a  child. 

"  Can  it  be  Nicole  ?  "  he  thought  hopefully, 
but  his  spirits  fell  as  the  woman  came  on  doubt- 
fully in  a  wavering  line. 

160 


THE  MAN   WITH   THE  LANTERN 

"  Good  evening,  citoyenne,"  he  said  gallantly. 
"There  are  not  many  of  your  sex  abroad  to-night, 
and  alone." 

The  woman  gave  the  countersign,  "The  loth 
of  August." 

Barabant,  seeing  that  she  was  not  inclined  to 
enter  into  a  conversation,  cried  : 

"Take  pity  on  the  patriot,  citoyenne.  The 
hours  are  dull." 

But  the  woman,  with  only  a  slight  shake  of 
her  head,  passed  quickly  on.  Barabant,  thus  re- 
pulsed, grumbled  to  himself: 

"  She  is  neither  young  nor  pretty  or  she  would 
have  stopped."  But  remembering  the  sentry  he 
had  left,  he  continued :  "  Perhaps  it  is  the  fair  one 
with  the  broken  head.  If  it  is,  she  does  n't  seem 
any  too  eager.  No,  she  Js  turned  away." 

Suddenly  he  drew  himself  up  with  an  excla- 
mation. He  saw  the  woman  halt  as  with  the 
twinkle  of  a  lantern  the  figure  of  a  man  joined 
her,  while  to  his  astonishment  she  drew  back  in 
evident  shrinking  from  her  new  companion. 

Barabant,  who  had  followed  this  scene  with 
such  intentness  as  to  have  become  unaware  of 
his  surroundings,  suddenly  bounded  back  at  the 
touch  of  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  What  vigilance,  Citoyen  Barabant !  What 
a  model  sentry !  " 

161 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

It  was  Louison  who  had  stolen  on  him  si- 
lently, and  now  stood  mocking  him.  To  Bara- 
bant  the  apparition  was  so  in  keeping  with  the 
strange  impression  which  the  girl  had  made  on 
him  that  he  was  too  startled  to  answer  immedi- 
ately. 

"  Why  are  you  always  afraid  of  me  ?  "  Lou- 
ison said  impatiently.  "  It  is  n't  pleasant  to  in- 
spire terror." 

Barabant  excused  himself,  recounting  the  scene 
he  had  just  witnessed ;  but  Louison,  not  to  be 
put  off,  returned  to  her  question.  "  So  I  inspire 
you  with  fear  ?  " 

"  The  expression  is  exaggerated,"  Barabant  re- 
turned evasively. 

"  Come,  frankly,  there  is  something  about  me 
that  has  repelled  you  ?  "  She  continued  seek- 
ing the  answer  herself.  "  Was  it  the  day  we 
went  to  the  flower-market  and  I  pretended  an- 
ger ?  That  was  but  play."  Her  eyes  sought  his 
face,  as  though  she  could  find  its  expression  de- 
spite the  darkness.  All  at  once  she  said,  "  It  was 
at  the  guillotine  ?  " 
"  That  's  true." 

"  I  knew  it ;  but  why  ?  I  don't  understand," 
she  said  almost  angrily.  "  What  is  there  about 
me  that  gives  such  an  impression  *?  I  am  not 
conscious  of  it." 

162 


THE   MAN   WITH   THE   LANTERN 

"  First,  answer  me  this,"  Barabant  said,  "  and 
frankly.  At  an  execution  you  have  no  feeling 
of  pity  or  horror,  have  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered  thoughtfully.     "  Why  ?  " 

"  Because  it  is  too  evident." 

"  How  do  I  seem  ?  "  she  said  quickly. 

"  You  seem  utterly  indifferent  to  any  human 
suffering." 

"  That  is  true,"  she  said  slowly. 

"It  is  not  only  that,"  Barabant  continued, 
"  but  —  how  shall  I  say  it  ?  There  seemed  to  be 
almost  a  fascination  to  you  in  the  spectacle  that 
ordinarily  sickens  the  human  heart." 

"  What !  "  the  girl  exclaimed,  astonished,  "  are 
you  not  curious  to  see  how  a  man  can  die  ?  " 

"  Curious,  yes ;  but  the  spectacle  is  disagree- 
able to  me." 

"  Why  *?  What  is  more  ordinary  and  com- 
monplace than  death  *?  " 

Barabant,  in  despair  of  making  her  understand, 
remained  silent. 

"  How  curious !  And  when  I  am  at  an  exe- 
cution I  look  different  from  this  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I  seem  —  ?  " 

"  Unhuman." 

She  tossed  her  head  in  displeasure  and  said 
sharply : 

163 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"  I  do  not  like  that." 

"  I  am  frank." 

Louison  remained  thoughtfully  silent,  per- 
turbed and  frowning.  Then  lifting  her  head, 
she  said  gaily,  in  quite  a  different  manner: 

"  Very  well,  then ;  I  shall  take  care  how  you 
see  me  in  future." 

She  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  Bastille,  and 
fastening  her  glance  upon  the  ring  of  light,  said: 

"  It  seems  to  be  going  away.  Perhaps  we 
shall  see  the  woman  now." 

"  She  comes  faster  this  time,"  Barabant  said 
as  the  sound  of  footsteps  warned  them  of  her 
approach. 

The  next  moment  a  bundle  of  draperies  passed 
them  as  a  ship  scudding  before  a  storm.  Lou- 
ison, watching  the  woman,  closed  her  hand  over 
Barabant's  wrist,  allowing  an  exclamation  to 
escape  her.  Then,  springing  forward,  she  cried : 

"  Eh,  mother !     Wait  a  moment ! " 

The  fleeting  figure  turned  as  though  stung, 
then  dashed  wildly  into  the  darkness.  Louison, 
with  a  bound,  sprang  after  her,  but  suddenly 
clapping  her  hand  to  her  forehead,  turned  and 
broke  past  Barabant,  who  heard  only,  as  she  shot 
on  toward  the  Bastille,  the  words : 

"  The  man  with  the  lantern ! " 


164 


XII 

THE    MASSACRE    OF    THE    PRISONS 

^  |  ^HE  next  morning  Nicole  and  Genevieve, 
JL  having  breakfasted  at  noon  near  the  Tem- 
ple, where  the  throng  collected  daily  to  insult 
the  ears  of  the  royal  family,  returned  slowly 
toward  the  Tuileries  through  the  hushed  and  ap- 
prehensive city. 

Toward  three  o'clock  the  long-awaited  tocsin 
sounded  from  the  other  side  of  the  river,  then 
the  chance  burst  of  a  musket  and  the  assem- 
bling roll  of  drums.  But  this  time,  in  con- 
trast to  the  night  of  the  gth  of  August,  there 
came  no  spontaneous  outpouring  into  the  streets. 
As  the  tocsin  continued  to  disturb  the  air  with  its 
violent  voice,  timid  faces  appeared  at  the  win- 
dows, searching  with  anxious  glances  the  streets, 
the  opposite  walls,  in  doubt  of  their  neighbors ; 
even  the  air,  as  though  to  discover  the  reason  of 
the  uproar. 

The  streets  were  emptied;  small  groups  wa- 
vered in  the  entrances,  waiting  for  the  first  rumors 

165 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

to  guide  them.  As  the  two  girls  hesitated,  a 
woman  appeared,  running  toward  them,  drag- 
ging a  child  at  either  side.  From  window  and 
doorway  a  clamor  of  questions  arose,  while  many, 
running  into  the  street,  surrounded  her  and 
sought  to  stop  her  progress.  But  the  woman, 
resisting  all  entreaties,  cleft  the  crowd  and  dis- 
appeared, repeating  frantically : 

"  They  are  massacring  the  prisoners ! " 

The  street  grew  noisy  with  exclamation  and 
conjecture,  while  those  above,  in  the  windows, 
screamed  down  for  the  rumors  that  flew  from  lip 
to  lip.  A  little  later  another  messenger  arrived, 
—  a  waif  of  the  slums,  to  whom  the  marks  of 
poverty  and  vice  had  given  the  semblance  of  an 
incongruous  manhood.  The  boy  came  romping 
down  the  street,  bare-legged,  disheveled,  bran- 
dishing a  knife.  At  times  he  flung  up  his  hands 
and  screamed  in  childish  treble : 

"  To  the  Abbaye,  citoyens,  to  the  Abbaye  !  The 
tyrants  are  being  exterminated.  The  justice  of 
the  people  is  beginning !  To  the  Abbaye  !  To 
the  Abbaye ! " 

Behind  the  frenzied  boy  there  fell  a  silence, 
and  the  crowd,  in  a  sudden,  senseless  panic,  re- 
treated indoors. 

"  The  Abbaye  !"  Nicole  cried  in  consternation. 
"  And  Dossonville  !  We  must  hurry  there." 

166 


THE   MASSACRE   OF   THE   PRISONS 

A  baker's  wife,  seeing  them  hastening  on,  cried: 

"Are  you  going  to  the  Abbaye,  citoyennes"? 
Is  there  any  danger  ?  " 

"  Not  for  us." 

"  Wait,  I  '11  join  you." 

A  cobbler  made  a  fourth,  then  two  apprentices 
from  a  cloth-merchant  attached  themselves,  then 
a  fishwife  and  a  tow-headed  newsboy.  As  they 
crossed  the  Seine  the  crowd  increased,  while  horrid 
figures  of  depravity  and  suffering,  vermin  of 
Paris,  broke  past  them.  Cutlasses  and  pikes  ap- 
peared, and  from  the  panting  throng  shouts  burst 
out : 

"  Death  to  the  traitors  !  " 

"  Death  to  the  betrayers  of  Longwy  ! " 

"  Death  to  all  aristocrats!" 

"  Death  to  priests  !  " 

At  the  Abbaye  they  found  the  sanguinary  rem- 
nants of  the  prisoners  who,  transferred  from  the 
Conciergerie,  had  been  swept  from  the  carts  into 
the  maw  of  the  mob  at  the  very  gates  that 
opened  to  shelter  them.  On  the  prison  itself 
there  had  been  as  yet  no  attack.  The  mob,  seek- 
ing vengeance  on  the  priests,  had  swept  on  to . 
the  convent  of  Les  Carmes. 

At  the  sight  of  the  strewn  corpses  and  the 
blood-bespattered  pavements  the  baker's  wife 
halted,  crying : 

167 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"  I  've  seen  enough ;  I  'm  going  back." 

The  cobbler  hesitated,  listening  across  the 
houses  to  the  faint  cries  of  the  mob  in  the  Rue 
Vaugirard.  The  apprentices  sprang  forward, 
while  the  newsboy  exclaimed  impudently: 

"  Come  on,  comrades,  we  must  see  what  's 
doing!" 

Nicole,  who  had  come  solely  to  assure  herself 
of  Dossonville's  safety,  likewise  recoiling  before 
the  spectacle  of  "butchery,  was  yet  so  impelled 
by  the  subtle,  morbid  fascination  which  such 
scenes  exercise  over  the  human  mind,  that  with- 
out a  thought  she  hastened  on.  The  fishwife  and 
the  cobbler  joined  them ;  even  the  woman  who 
had  already  started  to  retreat  acceded  to  the  com- 
mon curiosity  and  returned,  protesting  : 

"  It 's  too  horrible  !     Turn  back." 

"  After  all,"  the  cobbler  answered,  "  that 's  what 
the  aristocrats  would  like  to  do  to  us ! " 

"  Aye,  citoyen,  you  've  hit  it  right ! " 

"  And  the  women  ?  " 

"  They  '11  leave  them  alone." 

"We '11  see." 

About  the  convent  a  loose  throng  was  churn- 
ing, bristling  with  pikes  and  crudely  fashioned 
spears. 

"  Keep  together,"  the  cobbler  cried,  "  and 
bear  toward  the  wall ! " 

168 


,  THE  MASSACRE  OF  THE   PRISONS 

By  this  manceuver  they  penetrated  to  the 
front,  where,  their  band  disintegrating,  Gene- 
vieve  and  Nicole  succeeded  in  reaching  a  position 
at  a  grill  in  the  wall. 

In  the  garden,  not  thirty  feet  away,  a  black 
mass  dotted  with  the  white  of  human  faces  was 
huddled  together,  shrinking  from  the  gates  and 
apertures  that  swarmed  with  axes,  scythes,  swords, 
and  barbarous  faces  more  pitiless  than  the  steel. 

At  Nicole's  side  a  mason  extended  his  cut- 
lass toward  the  priests,  bellowing : 

"Eh,  you  fat  fellow  over  there!  Wait  till 
they  let  us  in!  I  '11  carve  you!" 

Another  shouted : 

"  I  choose  to  shave  the  tall  one ;  I  '11  make  a 
true  monk  of  him  ! " 

The  priests  encouraged  one  another;  some 
knelt,  others  lifted  their  arms,  their  voices,  and 
their  eyes  serenely  above.  A  few  blanched  be- 
fore the  approach  of  martyrdom,  while  others  in 
whom  youth's  natural  impulse  to  life  was  strong 
calculated  the  surroundings  and  weighed  the 
desperate  chances  of  escape. 

All  at  once  there  was  an  upheaval  in  the  herd 
of  the  besieged,  a  swaying  toward  the  walls,  and 
a  sudden  parting  that  opened  a  path  to  the 
chapel  beyond,  where  a  swarm  of  the  populace, 
who  had  broken  through,  was  spreading  over  the 

169 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

steps.  From  the  crowd  without  a  wild  shout 
went'  up;  those  at  the  locked  gates,  stretching 
their  arms  through,  strove  to  prod  the  victims 
with  their  pikes. 

On  the  steps,  face  to  face  with  their  prey,  the 
new  assailants  hesitated,  seeking  some  pretext 
before  striking.  But  one,  more  impatient  than 
the  rest,  burst  from  the  back  and  fired  point- 
blank  into  the  herd.  The  impulse  once  given, 
the  assassins  fell  upon  their  victims,  who  on  their 
knees  welcomed  the  end. 

Forty  or  fifty  of  the  younger  members,  revolt- 
ing at  such  surrender  to  death,  bounded  away  to 
scale  the  farther  walls.  A  very  few  passed  over 
and  escaped  to  outer  courts  before  the  bandits 
flung  themselves  on  the  fleeing.  Then  every- 
where could  be  seen  bodies  clutching  at  the 
brim  of  the  wall,  tumbling  and  pitching  back- 
ward in  the  horror  of  the  overtaking  fate.  Arms 
that  grasped  liberty  suddenly  contracted  in  the 
convulsions  of  despair;  faces  that  already  looked 
on  life  appeared  a  moment  above  the  wall  and 
fell  back  with  the  sharp  summons  to  death. 

"  Shall  we  go  *?  "  cried  Nicole,  suffocated. 

"  Yes." 

But  they  could  not  move.  The  scene  en- 
chained them. 

The  hunt  consummated,  the  hunters  flung 
170 


THE   MASSACRE  OF   THE   PRISONS 

themselves  on  the  unresisting,  and  as  though  to 
stifle  the  smallest  spark  of  pity,  redoubled  their 
fury  and  their  cries. 

In  front  of  the  two  girls  a  Marseillais  felled  a 
priest  with  two  strokes  across  the  scalp,  and  drove 
his  pike  into  the  stomach  with  such  ferocity  that 
the  point  refused  to  move.  The  assassin,  in 
rage  jumping  on  the  lifeless  body,  stamped  and 
tugged,  cursing  the  resistance  of  the  corpse  which 
sought  to  retain  the  weapon  that  had  struck  it 
down.  Everywhere  the  butchers,  not  content  with 
the  death-dealing  blow,  flung  themselves  on  the 
lifeless  bodies,  piercing  them  with  infuriated  stabs, 
as  though  the  last  insult  was  this  mutilation  of 
the  dead. 

Finally,  despairing  of  satisfying  their  vengeance 
on  this  inert  mass,  the  leaders  forced  those  who 
remained  into  the  church,  some  who  still  breathed 
being  borne  on  the  arms  of  those  who  but  de- 
ferred their  murder.  Two  by  two  they  were  led 
out  and  butchered. 

From  this  moment  the  massacre,  in  its  clock- 
like  procession,  abated  its  fury.  The  execution- 
ers themselves,  exhausted  and  listless,  struck  me- 
chanically. 

The  crowd,  grumbling  at  the  monotony,  moved 
away.  Nicole  and  Genevieve  found  themselves 
in  the  street,  packed  in  the  press,  beside  their  late 

171 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

companions.  The  crowd,  animated  by  the  lust 
of  curiosity,  became  that  most  fearful  of  the  mani- 
festations of  humanity — a  mob. 

Genevieve  and  Nicole,  no  longer  individuals, 
but  atoms,  became  cold,  pitiless,  maddened  with 
sensations,  hungry  for  new;  invaded  by  a  fury 
which  they  did  not  understand,  an  anger  and  a 
hatred  of  which  they  knew  not  the  cause. 

Some  one  cried: 

"  On  to  St.  Firmin.  There  are  eighty  priests 
there  !  "  A  hundred  voices  took  up  the  cry, 
and  the  mass,  set  in  motion,  rolled  toward  the 
prison. 

The  fishwife,  with  streaming  hair,  bellowed  : 

*'  Cut  the  throats  of  every  one.  No  priest  must 
escape ! " 

Farther  on  in  the  press  of  bodies,  Nicole  saw 
the  two  apprentices,  transformed  with  the  frenzy. 

The  cobbler  had  armed  himself  with  some 
weapon;  even  the  tow-headed  newsboy  near  them 
screamed  hysterically: 

"  A  la  mort !     A  la  mort ! " 

"  I  can  go  no  farther  ! "  Nicole  protested. 

"Yes,  yes,"  Genevieve  cried,  seizing  her  arms 
and  impelling  her,  but  half  resisting,  into  the  rush 
of  the  multitude.  "  We  must  see  it !  We  must 
see  everything ! " 

She  was  a  child  no  longer,  but  a  savage  akin  in 
172 


THE   MASSACRE   OF   THE   PRISONS 

fury  to  the  beast  enraged  by  the  red  flash  of 
blood. 

At  St.  Firmin's  the  vanguard  broke  into  the 
prison.  The  night  was  filled  with  shrieks  of  terror 
and  of  furious  exultation.  Body  after  body,  dead 
or  dying,  was  hurled  from  the  window,  to  be 
pounced  upon  below  and  torn  to  pieces.  More 
than  eighty  lay  quivering  in  mounds. 

Then  at  last  the  mob,  by  that  strange  organ- 
ization by  which  it  moves  without  commands, 
turned  face  and,  sparkling  with  torches,  inun- 
dated the  narrow  street  that  led  down  to  the 
Boulevard  St.  Germain,  and  returned  to  the  prison 
of  the  Abbaye.  It  was  now  deep  into  the  night, 
and  for  hours  a  semblance  of  a  trial  had  been 
going  on  within  the  court.  The  mob,  thus  balked 
by  the  routine  of  justice,  softened  and  dissipated 
into  a  throng  of  spectators,  bewildered  and  re- 
covering slowly  from  their  delirium. 

Nicole,  fearing  for  Dossonville,  pressed  forward 
for  a  nearer  view.  About  the  gates  were  a  score 
of  executioners,  so  saturated  with  blood  that  at 
first  glance  the  butchers  seemed  more  like  the 
butchered.  Eight  or  ten  waited  in  two  rows  the 
arrival  of  the  new  victim.  As  many  more  leaned 
wearily  against  the  wall  with  nodding  heads. 
One  stooped  to  light  fresh  torches. 

Suddenly  the  gates  disclosed  to   Nicole   the 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

flaring  courtyard  and  the  wild  figure  of  a  prisoner 
propelled  to  destruction  by  two  guards.  At  first 
he  marched  to  his  death  with  firm  tread;  but 
all  at  once,  with  a  horrid  heave  of  his  breast, 
he  stretched  out  his  hands  before  his  face  to  hide 
the  hideous  doom.  Shoved  forward,  his  arms 
raised  in  the  instinct  of  self-preservation,  he 
suffered  untold  tortures :  his  arms,  hacked  to 
spouting  stumps,  received  a  dozen  gashes,  while 
the  revolting  body  sought  to  strike  back  against 
the  sting,  until  the  last  blow  silenced  the  shriek 
on  shriek  that  called  on  merciful  death. 

Two  men  dragged  aside  the  half-naked  corpse 
and  flung  it  on  the  mound  of  bodies.  At 
the  shock  of  the  new  arrival  there  was  a  sud- 
den settling  and  shifting  in  this  inert  mass,  a 
quivering  adjustment  that  gave  the  ghastly  sem- 
blance of  life,  as  though  a  hideous  welcome  of 
the  dead  to  the  dead.  Genevieve,  with  throb- 
bing pulses  and  dilated  nostrils,  shuddered  and 
turned  to  Nicole.  She  was  so  rigid,  so  ghastly 
with  the  horror,  that  Genevieve  seized  her  arm. 

"Ah!  ah!  ah!" 

At  her  clutch  Nicole  screamed  in  mortal  dread, 
then  burst  into  hysterical  weeping.  Genevieve 
put  her  arm  around  her  and  drew  her  away, 
through  the  morbid  crowd,  seeing  dimly  the 
baker's  wife  pressing  feverishly  forward  to  seize 


THE  MASSACRE  OF  THE   PRISONS 

their  place.  Then  Nicole,  covering  her  eyes, 
began  to  scream : 

"  Take  me  away,  away,  away !  " 

But  at  every  tenth  step  she  stopped  and 
struggled  to  go  back,  her  glance  seeking  the 
caldron.  The  third  time,  to  her  horror,  the 
gates  opened  once  more,  and,  heavily  borne  be- 
tween two  guards,  she  saw  the  figure  of  Dos- 
sonville. 


'75 


XIII 

DOSSONVILLE    IN    PERIL 

Citoyen  Dossonville  to  the  bar !  The 
Citoyen  Dos-son-ville  ! " 

The  call,  resounding  along  the  stone  corridors, 
reached  the  prisoners  huddled  in  the  main  hall 
of  the  Abbaye. 

"  The  Citoyen  Dos-son-ville ! " 

A  turnkey  under  a  snarling  torch  penetrated 
the  group,  drawing  one  after  another  to  him  with 
rough  hand. 

"  The  Citoyen  Dossonville  !  I  summon  all  on 
peril  of  their  lives  to  discover  to  me  the  Citoyen 
Dossonville ! " 

Out  of  the  mass  extended  a  hand  with  long, 
accusing  forefinger,  and  a  voice  exclaimed : 

"  Over  there." 

The  hand  was  snatched  back,  while  a  fo- 
menting in  the  crowd  showed  where  the  informer 
was  burying  himself  from  recognition. 

The  turnkey  stopped  before  a  figure  stretched 
in  sleep,  and  incredulously  thrust  his  torch  into 

176 


DOSSONVILLE   IN   PERIL 

the  face.  But  the  sleeper  continued  to  inhale 
long  breaths  methodically,  until,  convinced  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  sleep,  the  turnkey  pro- 
ceeded to  wake  him  with  a  vigorous  thrust  of 
his  foot. 

Dossonville  started  to  a  sitting  position,  open- 
ing his  eyes  on  the  suspicious  visage  above 
him  and  the  background  of  fellow-prisoners  who, 
afraid  to  show  too  much  interest,  held  themselves 
at  a  distance  and  followed  from  the  corners  of 
their  eyes. 

"  What  do  you  want  with  me  ?  " 

"  Are  you  the  Citoyen  Dossonville  *?  " 

"  I  am." 

"  The  Nation  summons  you  to  appear  before 
the  bar  of  the  popular  justice!" 

"  At  eleven  o'clock  at  night  ?  The  justice  of 
the  people  never  sleeps,  then  *?  " 

"  Be  quick  !  " 

Dossonville  lifted  himself  to  an  upright  posi- 
tion, restoring  his  pillow  to  its  rightful  function 
of  cloak. 

"  I  will  not  bother  about  my  other  possessions 
now,"  he  cried  sarcastically.  "Citoyennes  and 
citoyens,  to  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  again, 
or  not,  as  you  prefer.  Now  for  the  justice  of  the 
people ! " 

Under  the  lightness  of  his  manner,  his  mind 
177 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

worked  with  the  desperation  of  an  animal  at 
bay.  Of  what  he  was  approaching  he  knew 
nothing.  Yet  as  he  advanced  along  the  rever- 
berant corridors,  his  mind  assembled  a  dozen 
stratagems  to  meet  either  a  whirlwind  of  assassins 
or  the  travesty  of  a  trial.  His  eye,  meanwhile 
alert  for  every  detail,  enveloped  each  portion  of 
the  journey  at  a  glance,  running  the  walls  as  a 
wild  animal  tracks  his  cage. 

Gradually  his  waiting  ear  distinguished  a 
muffled  hum,  a  buzz  of  voices,  increasing  in 
volume  until  out  of  it  escaped  the  piercing  shriek 
of  a  woman. 

The  next  moment  there  burst  upon  his  hearing 
a  hundred  cries, — shrieks  of  terror,  shouts  of  ven- 
geance, cries  of  pity,  commands  and  groans, 
drunken  and  maddened  notes, — sharp  to  the  ear, 
rushing  over  his  mind  in  a  storm  of  confusion. 
The  gate  opened  and  the  volume  smote  him 
with  the  fury  of  a  blast. 

He  stood  in  the  courtyard,  blinking  at  strange 
forms  and  the  crossing  and  recrossing  of  torches, 
striving  to  collect  his  wits.  Two  guards  had 
seized  him,  presenting  the  points  of  their  reddened 
swords  to  his  breast. 

His  eye  went  to  the  center  of  the  courtyard, 
to  a  table  flanked  by  torches,  littered  with  papers, 
bottles,  and  the  glint  of  steel;  behind  which, 

178 


DOSSONVILLE   IN  PERIL 

installed  as  judge,  Dossonville  recognized  the 
huissier  Maillard.  A  score  of  Marseillais,  stained 
with  blood,  reeling  from  sleep  or  drunkenness, 
churned  about  this  improvised  tribunal,  inter- 
rupting with  their  revilings  the  testimony  of 
the  accused,  or  swaggered  back  and  forth  through 
the  gate  that  led  to  the  mob.  Some  clustered 
in  corners  to  drink  from  the  bottles  that  a  wine- 
merchant  constantly  renewed;  others  nonchalantly 
lighted  pipes,  stretched  their  arms  and  yawned. 
In  the  lull  between  executions  Dossonville  heard 
a  snore.  Amid  this  carnage  one  man,  stretched 
on  a  bench,  was  unconcernedly  asleep. 

"  There  's  a  man  who  's  not  disturbed  by  tri- 
fles," he  muttered. 

At  the  slight  shift  he  made,  one  of  his  guards 
pricked  him  with  his  sword,  crying  angrily  : 

"  Move  again,  and  I  '11  cut  you  to  ribbons ! " 

"  I  am  become  a  statue,"  Dossonville  answered 
coolly.  "Only,  do  not  bear  too  hard.  I  am 
ticklish." 

Ahead  of  him,  a  priest  without  hope  told 
his  beads ;  while  before  the  tribunal  was  a  man 
so  bowed  with  years  that  he  had  to  be  supported 
on  either  side.  . 

All  at  once,  seeking  in  the  crowd,  Dossonville 
perceived  Javogues. 

"  Ai'e  !  a'ie  !  "  he  mumbled  uneasily  at  the  sight 
179 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

of  that  gloating  face.     "  What  ferocity !     He  is 
bound  to  make  sure  of  me.     The  animal !  " 

He  turned  stoically  from  the  Marseillais  to 
the  judges,  where,  to  his  amazement,  he  perceived 
a  movement  of  clemency  toward  the  accused. 
Suddenly  the  voice  of  Maillard  appealed  to  the 
crowd : 

"  Citoyens,  whatever  the  condition  or  the  crimes 
of  thisfeeble  plaything  of  time,  I  declare  to  you  that 
it  is  unworthy  of  the  Republic  to  pursue  here  its 
vengeance  !  When  nature,  for  eighty  years,  has 
spared  one  from  peril  of  sickness,  shock  of  ac- 
cident, and  the  din  of  battles,  man  cannot  show 
himself  more  pitiless  than  nature.  Citoyens,  I  de- 
mand the  handful  of  years  for  this  venerable 
man." 

An  approving  murmur  saluted  this  oratorical 
appeal,  broken  by  the  strident  voice  of  Javogues: 

"  Traitors  have  no  age.  If  he  is  an  aristocrat, 
let  him  die  !  " 

Maillard,  encouraged  by  the  cries  of  dissent, 
extended  his  arm  over  the  broken  figure  and 
said  impressively : 

"  Whatever  this  man  has  been,  exists  no  more. 
The  Republic  can  take  no  vengeance  here,  for  it 
can  deprive  this  man  of  nothing.  Citoyens,  let 
him  be  acquitted." 

"  Well  said." 

180 


DOSSONVILLE   IN   PERIL 

"  He  speaks  well." 

"  Free  him ! " 

"  Bravo.    Free  him ! " 

The  acquitted  man,  aware  of  what  had  hap- 
pened, was  led  away  by  the  guards.  The  priest 
was  put  in  his  place,  Dossonville  moving  nearer. 

But  now  the  executioners  without  the  gates, 
growing  impatient,  smote  the  air  with  their  cries: 

"  More  victims  !  " 

"  Hurry  up  ! " 

"  No  ceremony  with  the  aristocrat !  " 

"  Hurry  up  !     More  !     More !  " 

"  Give  us  more  !     We  want  more  !" 

"  Maillard,  we  are  thirsty  !  " 

The  judge,  addressing  the  quiet  victim,  pro- 
ceeded methodically : 

"  Jean  Marie  Latour  ?  " 

"  I  am  he." 

"Called  Brother  Francis?" 

"  Yes." 

"Priest?" 

"  Yes." 

"You  refused  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the 
Nation?" 

"  I  did." 

At  this  a  howl  more  of  triumph  than  of  anger 
burst  from  the  listeners,  and  the  judge,  recogniz- 
ing the  hopelessness  of  the  case,  said  shortly: 

181 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"  To  La  Force." 

Three  men  seized  him  and  bore  him,  unresist- 
ing, to  the  shambles,  while  two  more  propelled 
Dossonville  roughly  forward. 

Hardly  was  he  in  position  when  three  piercing 
shrieks  announced  the  death  of  the  priest.  Dos- 
sonville, shuddering  despite  his  will,  heard  a  voice 
cry  boisterously : 

"  Eh,  what  a  squeal  the  animal  gave  !  " 

The  guards  fell  back,  guarding  his  retreat,  while 
Dossonville,  disdaining  to  notice,  felt  rather  than 
saw  the  Marseillais  take  his  position  at  his  side. 

"Armand  Roger  Dossonville?" 

"  The  same." 

"  Lieutenant  in  the  National  Guard  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  are  accused  of  being  in  the  Tuileries  on 
the  tenth  day  of  August  and  of  firing  upon  the 
Nation." 

"  Who  accuses  me  ?  " 

"  I  accuse  you." 

"  And  I." 

Dossonville  turned,  met  the  angry  eyes  of 
Javogues,  and  seeking  the  second  speaker,  rec- 
ognized one  of  those  who  had  arrested  him.  He 
turned  to  the  tribunal. 

"  The  witnesses  are  mistaken.  I  was  not  at 
the  Tuileries." 

182 


DOSSONVILLE   IN   PERIL 

His  accusers  burst  into  a  roar  of  denunciation, 
but  Maillard,  quelling  them,  said  quietly : 

"  That  should  not  be  difficult  to  prove.  With 
whom  were  you  on  the  tenth  day  of  August  ?  " 

Dossonville  nodded  his  head  in  assent.  Then, 
seeing  the  trap  into  which  he  was  being  led,  he 
asked  : 

"  First,  does  not  that  register  relate  that  on  my 
arrest  I  claimed  an  alibi  with  the  Citoyen  Marat 
and  later  renounced  it  at  this  prison,  giving  as  a 
reason  that  I  used  it  as  a  protection  to  insure  my 
reaching  prison  and  a  trial  *?  " 

Javogues  broke  in  furiously : 

"  Do  not  listen  to  him !  He  prepares  some 
new  lie ! "  Then  grasping  Dossonville  by  the 
collar,  he  shook  his  fist  in  his  face.  "  I  swear 
that  if  he  is  acquitted,  I  myself  will  cut  his 
throat." 

"The  Citoyen  Javogues,"  Dossonville  con- 
tinued, without  changing  the  level  of  his  voice, 
"  unfortunately  for  me,  from  the  day  we  met  has 
hated  me  with  an  obstinate  hatred.  I  adopted 
the  subterfuge  only  because  I  believed  that  other- 
wise I  never  could  have  reached  the  prison  alive. 
The  proof  is,  I  denounced  it  immediately  and 
explained  my  reasons.  You  will  find  it  there. 
I  will  now  tell  you  with  whom  I  passed  the 
day." 

183 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

He  waited  a  moment  for  quiet,  Javogues 
thundering : 

"  He  lies !     He  lies !     He  lies ! " 

"The  man  whose  testimony  I  invoke  is  known 
to  you,  Citoyen  Maillard.  Of  his  patriotism 
there  can  be  no  question.  Unfortunately,  he  left 
immediately  after  for  the  Army  of  the  Rhone. 
From  ten  o'clock  of  the  night  of  August  Qth 
until  ten  o'clock  of  the  morning  of  August  loth 
I  was  in  the  house  of  the  Citoyen  Heron." 

There  was  a  movement  of  stupefaction  in  the 
assemblage,  even  Javogues  recoiling.  But  the 
first  words  of  Maillard  fell  upon  the  ears  of  Dos- 
sonville  as  the  sudden  fall  of  a  sword. 

"The  Citoyen  Heron  did  not  leave  for  the 
frontier.  Let  the  Citoyen  Heron  be  roused  and 
corroborate  the  accused  ! " 

Two  or  three  threw  themselves  upon  the  sleeper 
to  bring  him  forward.  The  mind  of  Dossonville, 
thus  faced  with  certain  defeat,  did  not  give  a  sec- 
ond to  despair,  but,  with  the  last  instinctive 
grasping  for  life,  gathered  for  a  supreme  effort. 

"  It  is  unnecessary,"  he  cried  hurriedly.  "  That 
night  I  performed  secret  services  to  the  Nation 
that  cannot  be  made  public.  But  my  life  is  at 
stake ;  I  demand  Santerre.  Santerre  will  vouch 
for  me." 

But  what  he  said  was  lost  in  the  chorus  : 
184 


DOSSONVILLE   IN   PERIL 

" Spy ! " 

"Liar!" 

"Traitor!" 

"  Liar !     Liar ! " 

"  Santerre  now ! " 

"  Robespierre  next ! " 

"  He  was  nursing  Danton,  perhaps ! " 

Dossonville  stretched  out  his  hand  appealingly, 
but  recognizing,  himself,  the  impossibility  of  his 
position,  he  changed  the  gesture  into  one  of  com- 
mand, and  looking  Maillard  calmly  in  the  face, 
said : 

"  Well,  hurry  it  up  then ! " 

"  To  La  Force ! " 

Dossonville,  wheeling  to  meet  his  escorts,  found 
himself  face  to  face  with  Javogues. 

"  Ah,  traitor,"  the  Marseillais  cried,  planting 
himself  in  his  path  with  folded  arms,  "have  I 
caught  you  at  last  ?  " 

With  a  sneer,  he  turned  contemptuously  on 
his  heel,  while  Dossonville,  seized  by  his  two 
guards,  began  the  fatal  journey.  Already  from 
the  gates  savage  faces  peered  in  expectation, 
while  from  the  courtyard  cries  of  warning 
arose : 

"  Another !     Another ! " 

"  Make  ready,  comrades ! " 

"  A  tall  one  this  time ! " 
185 


IN   THE   NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

"  Make  ready ! " 

Half-way  to  the  gate,Dossonville  stumbled  and 
went  down,  sprawling.  Instantly  he  was  up,  but 
catching  at  the  arms  of  his  guards,  who,  trying  to 
shake  him  off,  cried : 

"  Let  go,  there,  or  I  '11  stab  you." 

"  Citoyen,"  answered  Dossonville  with  an  ex- 
clamation of  pain  —  "  Citoyen,  I  have  turned  my 
ankle.  Support  me  ! " 

"  Come,  come,  no  nonsense ! " 

"  Citoyen,  it  is  because  I  do  not  wish  to  ap- 
pear to  shrink.  Remember  that  I  am  a  French- 
man ;  I  desire  only  to  die  bravely.  Give  me  your 
support." 

"  Give  it  to  him  ! "  growled  the  other. 

"  Citoyen.  I  thank  you  ;  unfortunately,  we  shall 
not  meet  again." 

The  one  who  had  spoken  continued  gruffly : 

"  When  you  pass  through  the  gate  keep  your 
hands  behind  your  back ;  you  '11  suffer  less." 

"  Thanks  again." 

The  next  moment  the  door  of  the  human  fur- 
nace flung  open  upon  his  eyes  the  horrid  specta- 
cle of  dead  and  living :  of  the  living  more  horrible 
than  the  dead. 

"  One  step  more ! " 

The  butchers,  but  five  deep,  seeing  a  man  borne 
to  them  by  their  comrades,  relaxed  their  tension; 

186 


DOSSONVILLE   IN   PERIL 

those  farthest  away  even  lowering  their  dripping 
blades. 

"  There,  citoyens,  steady  me  one  moment." 
With  a  sudden  powerful  lunge  Dossonville 
threw  the  two  guards  back  and  leaped  headlong 
into  the  gauntlet,  pierced  it,  bounded  across  the 
open,  and  dove  headlong  into  the  friendly  crowd, 
disappearing  like  an  enormous  fish,  with  only 
an  eddy  in  the  crowd  to  show  his  passage. 


.87 


XIV 

GOURSAC    AS    ACCUSER 

FOR  two  days,  while  the  massacre  ran  its 
course,  Paris,  in  terror  of  a  few  hundred 
assassins,  was  silent  and  empty.  Bands  of  ma- 
rauders scoured  the  streets,  robbing  and  pillag- 
ing under  pretext  of  the  right  of  search.  No 
shops  were  opened,  all  industry  was  suspended, 
while  the  law-abiding  occupied  themselves  with 
fortifying  their  doors  against  immediate  assault. 

Nicole,  broken  with  the  horror  of  her  experi- 
ence, remained  in  her  room,  in  utter  collapse. 
Barabant,  who  likewise  was  ignorant  of  the  escape 
of  Dossonville,  sick  at  heart,  passed  the  day  in  the 
room  of  Goursac,  mourning  the  fall  of  the  Revo- 
lution of  Ideas.  Louison,  alone  of  all  the  court, 
ventured  out,  bringing  back  such  tales  of  the  fe- 
rocity of  Ja vogues  that  Goursac  in  his  anger 
vowed  that  he  would  strike  him  down.  The  day 
was  pervaded  with  the  stillness  of  night.  '  Across 
the  roof  arrived  the  faint  traveling  cries  of  vic- 
tims ;  beyond  that,  the  air  was  empty. 

188 


GOURSAC   AS  ACCUSER 

After  three  days  of  butchery,  came  the  reaction. 
The  assassins,  after  slaughtering  indiscriminately 
women,  children,  old  men,  priests,  forgers,  and 
other  criminals,  blinded  with  lust  of  blood,  hurled 
themselves  on  La  Correction,  where  the  children 
of  the  people  were  confined,  maltreated  and 
covered  with  vermin.  Thirty-three  were  led  out 
and  put  to  death. 

Then  at  last  Paris  revolted.  The  Commune, 
itself  horrified,  rose  up  and  ended  the  slaughter. 
On  all  sides  the  nursed  wrath  of  the  people  ex- 
ploded in  cries  of  vengeance,  as  they  thronged  to 
the  section-halls  with  angry  denunciations  and 
demands  for  prosecution. 

After  two  days  of  fever  and  stupor,  haunted  by 
visions  of  the  mocking  face  of  Louison  and  of 
Barabant,  Nicole  made  an  effort,  and  rising  from 
her  bed,  set  out  for  the  section-hall  in  the  com- 
pany of  Genevieve.  When  they  had  entered 
the  hot,  choked  hall  and  had  taken  seats,  they 
found  Goursac  at  the  tribune  stirring  the  as- 
sembly with  pictures  of  the  massacre  of  wo- 
men and  children.  The  audience,  relieved  of 
its  personal  fear,  vented  its  anger  in  wild  cries 
for  vengeance.  Goursac,  having  demanded  the 
arrest  and  condemnation  of  the  Terrorists,  de- 
scended. 

Across  the  boisterous  hall  Nicole  beheld,  with 
189 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

a  sudden  thrill,  Barabant  springing  impetu- 
ously to  take  his  place.  But  as  he  reached  the 
tribune  and  turned  to  address  the  crowd,  her 
eyes,  which  had  followed  his  every  movement, 
were  distracted  by  a  violent  interruption  at  the 
entrance.  A  cry  of  indignant  anger  exploded  from 
the  crowd,  a  cry  of  despair  from  Genevieve,  whose 
fingers  buried  themselves  in  Nicole's  arm;  and  Ni- 
cole, seeking  through  the  overheated,  clamorous 
atmosphere,  beheld,  flanked  by  two  companions, 
the  wild  figure  of  Javogues. 

The  crowd,  taken  unawares,  remained  vacil- 
lating; while  the  Marseillais,  confident  of  his  re- 
ception, advanced,  and  lifting  his  hideous  arms, 
shouted : 

"  Citoyens,  behold  the  blood  of  traitors  and 
rejoice ! " 

No  answering  shout  was  returned. 

"  Citoyens,  France  has  been  purged  of  its  ty- 
rants ! " 

Nicole,  shrinking  from  the  horror  of  the  Mar- 
seillais, was  yet  fascinated  by  his  scornful  courage. 

For  a  moment  the  individual  dominated  the 
mass,  as  yet  divided,  awaiting  the  moment  that 
should  produce  its  leader.  From  somewhere  in 
the  back  came  the  answer : 

"  And  La  Correction  ?  Is  the  blood  of  chil- 
dren also  on  your  arms  *?  " 

190 


GOURSAC   AS  ACCUSER 

At  this  solemn  denunciation,  Javogues,  for  the 
first  time  realizing  his  danger,  drew  back  a  step, 
seeking  the  speaker  in  the  craning  of  the 
crowd. 

"  Butcher !  look  this  way !  It  is  I  —  the  Cit- 
oyen  Goursac  —  who  challenge  you." 

With  a  sweep  of  his  arms,  Goursac  freed  him- 
self and  began  a  zigzag  descent  down  the  benches 
toward  his  enemy,  pausing  at  every  step  to  cry : 

"  Butcher !     Assassin !     Cutthroat ! " 

Javogues,  watching  his  approach,  was  at  first 
too  astounded  to  gather  his  senses ;  but  when 
Goursac,  piercing  the  last  rows,  emerged  with 
accusing  finger,  Javogues  advanced  a  step  and 
closed  a  hand  over  his  knife. 

The  mass,  watching  every  motion  of  these 
two  men,  with  one  movement  of  its  hundred 
arms  loosened  its  weapons.  The  action  unified 
it.  It  became  an  organism,  hostile,  menacing, 
and  alert  for  the  first  outburst. 

Goursac,  gathering  anger  as  he  advanced,  cried: 

"  Assassin  of  children !  butcher  of  women ! 
murderer !  cutthroat !  do  you  dare  to  show 
yourself  in  this  assembly  *?  " 

Javogues's  answer  was  lost  in  the  clamor. 
From  all  quarters  arrived  the  accusing  question : 

"  La  Correction  *?     La  Correction  ?  " 

"  I  was  not  at  La  Correction !  "  Javogues  thun- 
191 


IN   THE   NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

dered  above  the  tumult.     "There  is  no  blood  of 
children  on  these  arms." 

"  And  of  women  *?  "  Goursac  caught  up.  "  If 
you  say  those  arms  have  not  been  stained  with 
the  blood  of  women,  I  tell  you,  you  lie !  " 

Javogues  snatched  up  his  cutlass,  but,  chang- 
ing his  tactics,  appealed  to  the  assembly : 

"  Hear  me  !  " 

From  all  sides  they  cried  angrily  : 

"  No  !  no  !  " 

"  I  demand  the  right  of  speech." 

"  No  !  no  ! " 

"  Hear  him ! "  Barabant  cried  from  the  tribune. 
"  Condemn  no  man  without  hearing  him." 

Nicole,  with  a  swift  premonition  of  an  over- 
hanging vengeance,  started  to  cry  : 

"  No,  Barabant,  no ! " 

But  Genevieve,  entwining  her  arms  about  her, 
besought  her,  crying : 

"  Mercy,  Nicole,  mercy !     I  love  him ! " 

At  points  in  the  crowd  others  caught  up  Bara- 
bant's  cry,  until,  after  five  minutes  of  fury  and 
storm,  the  noise  dwindled  and  went  out. 

Javogues,  facing  his  accusers,  returned  his 
weapon  to  his  belt,  spread  his  legs  as  though  to 
withstand  the  impending  shock,  folded  his  arms, 
and  ran  his  eye  over  the  banks  of  his  enemies. 

"  Citoyens,  I  have  answered  that  I  was  not  at 
192 


GOURSAC   AS  ACCUSER 

La  Correction.  You  ask  me  if  on  these  arms 
there  is  the  blood  of  women.  This  is  my  answer : 
I  do  not  know !  " 

"  He  mocks  us ! " 

"  Insolent ! " 

"Liar!" 

"  Impostor ! " 

"This  is  the  blood  of  traitors,"  Javogues  cried 
when  the  outburst  had  subsided,  "  and  that  is  all 
I  know.  Traitors  have  no  sex.  When  I  see  a 
traitor,  I  do  not  stop  to  ask  if  it  be  man,  woman, 
or  child,  old  or  young!  A  traitor  is  a  traitor! 
Were  the  mother  who  brought  me  forth  or  the 
child  of  my  flesh  to  conspire  against  the  Nation, 
I  would  strangle  them  with  these  my  own 
hands !" 

Again  the  clamor  rose  to  drown  his  words,  but 
this  time  Goursac,  rushing  from  side  to  side, 
shouted : 

"  Let  him  continue  !     Let  him  continue  ! " 

"  Of  what  I  have  done  I  am  ready  to  give  an 
accounting,"  Javogues  continued  disdainfully. 
"  At  the  prison  of  Les  Carmes,  my  hatchet  sent 
down  to  Hell  the  soul  of  that  arch-conspirator 
Dulan."  He  lifted  his  arms.  "  That  is  the  blood 
these  arms  bear,  and  I  glory  in  it.  At  the  Ab- 
baye,  I  myself  purified  the  Nation  of  five  traitors. 
At  La  Force  —  " 

193 


IN   THE   NAME   OF  LIBERTY 

But  from  the  angry  crowd  rose  the  cry : 

"  Enough  !     Enough  !  " 

One  voice,  deep  and  rumbling  with  an  accent  of 
doom,  made  itself  heard  : 

"  We  give  the  right  of  speech  to  a  citoyen  to 
defend  himself,  not  to  a  criminal  to  recite  his 
crimes ! " 

Goursac,  mounting  to  the  tribune,  secured  a  lull. 

"  You  have  recited  these  executions,"  he  cried, 
addressing  Javogues.  "  By  what  authority  did 
you  constitute  yourself  a  judge  ?  " 

Javogues,  opening  his  arms,  said : 

"  By  the  authority  of  popular  justice." 

"  Where  is  your  warrant '?  " 

The  Marseillais  did  not  answer.  The  section, 
seeing  where  he  was  being  led,  kept  an  intense 
silence  as  Goursac's  voice,  rising  in  denunciation, 
continued  : 

"You  admit  these  deaths.  You  claim  popu- 
lar authority.  Show  us  your  warrant  from  any 
popular  body,  from  any  section,  and  you  march 
from  here  unmolested." 

Javogues,  turning  to  his  companions,  said  in  a 
low  tone  :  "  Save  yourselves.  I  remain."  The 
two  moved  —  but  forward  to  his  side. 

The  eyes  of  the  assembly  were  on  Goursac, 
who,  white  with  the  intensity  of  his  passion, 
slowly  stretched  forth  his  finger : 

194 


GOURSAC   AS   ACCUSER 

"  Well  ?  "  He  waited  a  moment,  his  figure 
rigid  in  denunciation.  "No  answer*?  Then  I 
pronounce,  before  this  assembly,  that  you  have 
lied !  I  here  declare  that  what  you  have  done  is 
not  the  work  of  a  judge,  but  of  a  murderer !  That 
when  you  declared  you  acted  by  popular  author- 
ity, you  slandered  the  Nation,  and  tried  to  fasten 
on  it  the  stain  of  your  guilt  and  the  odium  of 
massacre  !  "  Then  assembling  all  his  powers,  he 
shouted  at  the  top  of  his  lungs,  "  Slanderer  of  the 
Nation ! " 

He  turned  to  the  section. 

"  Citoyens,  these  are  the  vipers  that  assail  every 
life.  No  one  of  us  is  safe.  They  threaten  the 
Assembly.  They  do  not  conceal  their  desire  for 
its  massacre.  But  to-night  we  hold  one,  this 
monster,  this  scum  of  the  earth.  We  hold  him, 
self-confessed  and  convicted.  Citoyens,  I  declare 
to  you  we  shall  be  guilty  of  cowardice  if  we  now 
allow  this  monster  to  live  another  day ! " 

"  Aye,  to  prison  with  them  ! " 

"  A  la  mort !  A  la  mort ! " 

"  A  la  guillotine  ! " 

Above  the  confusion  one  shrill  voice  rose  vic- 
torious, bearing  the  final  decree  of  the  mass. 

"  No,  citoyens !  A  la  lanterne  !  A  la  lanterne! " 

The  next  moment  all  other  cries  were  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  wild  outburst : 

195 


IN   THE   NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

"  A  la  lanterne  ! " 

A  hundred  hands  were  stretched  out  to  grasp 
the  Marseillais,  when  Barabant,  to  the  despair  of 
Nicole,  flung  himself  in  front  of  Javogues,  and 
with  appealing  arm  sought  to  be  heard.  But  the 
torrent  he  faced  was  relentless.  He  saw  nothing 
but  open  mouths,  clenched  fists,  black  brows ;  pis- 
tol, knife,  and  hatchet  tossing  above  the  surge  of 
arms.  His  friends  thundered  in  his  ear: 

"  A  la  lanterne  ! " 

Those  in  the  back,  climbing  on  the  benches, 
bellowed  down : 

"  A  la  lanterne ! " 

From  the  tribune,  frenzied  and  tefrible  in  his 
anger,  Goursac  whipped  on  the  tempest : 

"  A  la  lanterne  !  " 

Barabant,  with  all  effort  of  his  lungs,  could  not 
utter  a  sound  against  the  storm.  Those  that 
were  near  shouted  to  him : 

"  Barabant,  do  not  balk  us ! " 

"  Barabant,  look  out  for  your  own  neck  ! " 

All  at  once,  through  the  crowd,  the  terrified 
figure  of  Nicole  struggled  toward  him.  She 
flung  herself  to  his  side,  catching  him  violently 
by  the  shoulders,  panting  and  hysterical. 

"  Barabant  —  for  my  sake  —  Barabant  —  for 
your  own  safety  —  Barabant  —  if  you  believe  in 
a  woman's  premonitions,  do  not  save  that  viper!" 

196 


GOURSAC   AS   ACCUSER 

He  shook  his  head  and  firmly  but  gently  put 
her  from  him.  The  girl,  covering  her  face  with 
her  hands,  yielded  to  her  despair  and  fell  back 
into  the  crowd ;  while  Barabant,  never  flinching, 
fought  the  uproar  until  he  forced  the  frantic 
audience  to  listen. 

"This  man,"  he  cried  at  last,  above  the  per- 
sisting clamor — "  this  man  is  guilty ;  he  should 
die  ! "  The  uproar  broke  out  afresh.  "  He  has 
put  human  beings  to  death  without  authority 
from  the  people.  He  must  die !  " 

"  A  la  lanterne ! " 

"  Listen ! " 

"  Shut  the  doors !     Lock  the  doors  ! " 

"  But,  citoyens,"  Barabant  burst  out,  "  neither 
have  we  the  right  of  death.  Denounce  him, 
arrest  him,  but  obey  the  law.  Respect  the  law; 
respect  justice.  Citoyens,  I  demand  the  arresta- 
tion." 

The  shouts  rose  in  conflict. 

"No!  no!" 

"Yes!  yes!  yes!" 

"Death  to  him!"  , 

"  Arrest  him  ! " 

"  Hang  him ! " 

"  The  law !    The  law ! " 

The  mob  was  divided,  threatening  to  clash 
and  annihilate  itself.  The  result  was  a  dozen 

197 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

times  in  doubt,  but  after  half  an  hour  of  lull  and 
tumult  the  verdict  was  for  the  course  of  the  law. 
Barabant  again  mounted  the  tribune  and  put  the 
resolution  of  arrest. 

Javogues  and  the  two  Marseillais  were  led 
away;  the  storm  rolled  out;  the  hall  emptied; 
a  few  loiterers  straggled  down  the  benches,  staring 
at  Nicole,  who,  exhausted,  sobbed  on  the  shoulder 
of  Goursac : 

"  What  a  mistake !  What  a  mistake ! " 

Barabant,  leaving  the  tribune,  approached  his 
friends.  Now  that  the  passions  of  the  moment 
were  cold,  he  began  to  doubt  the  wisdom  of  his 
act. 

"  I  could  not  help  it,  Nicole,"  he  said,  moved 
by  her  utter  grief.  "  It  was  right,  Goursac,  was 
it  not?" 

Twice  he  repeated  the  question  without  suc- 
cess ;  nor  did  the  other  answer  until  they  reached 
the  Rue  Maugout.  Then,  at  length,  his  bitter- 
ness broke  through. 

"  Barabant,"  he  cried,  "  I  will  say  but  one  thing : 
my  life  is  on  your  head." 

"  That  is  absurd,"  protested  Barabant.  "  Ja- 
vogues is  in  prison.  He  will  be  condemned." 

"  He  will  not  remain  there  one  hour ! "  Gour- 
sac replied  curtly ;  but  conquering  his  dejection, 
he  extended  his  hand.  "Barabant,  I  know  you 

198 


GOURSAC   AS   ACCUSER 

meant  well  —  but  you  made  a  mistake.  Re- 
member what  I  say  !  " 

"  Meaning  I  have  betrayed  you  ?  " 

Goursac  made  no  answer. 

Barabant,  turning  brusquely,  repeated  the 
question  : 

"  Citoyen,  did  I  do  wrong  *?  " 

"Barabant,  my  young  friend,"  Goursac  an- 
swered, avoiding  the  question,  "when  I  meet  a 
snake,  I  do  not  stop  to  ask  if  it  is  another's 
property ! " 

"  Then  I  was  wrong  ?  " 

"  If  Javogues  loses  his  neck  and  we  keep  ours, 
no.  If  Javogues  keeps  his  —  " 

He  rubbed  his  own  solicitously,  it  being  un- 
necessary to  complete  the  sentence. 

By  six  o'clock  the  prophecy  of  Goursac  was  con- 
firmed, and  the  inhabitants  of  the  Rue  Maugout 
learned,  without  astonishment,  that  Javogues  had 
been  liberated  and  was  in  hiding. 


199 


XV 

LOVE,    LIFE,    AND    DEATH 

FROM  above  there  came  the  shrill,  rebellious 
cry  of  a  woman.  Below,  in  the  court,  the 
tenants  were  gathered,  seeking  refuge  from  the 
heat  of  the  night.  A  few  lights  upon  the  sheer 
walls  and  the  faint  glow  of  the  descended  moon 
illuminated  the  dim  groups :  the  men  against  the 
wall,  the  women  clustered  in  the  center.  The 
cry  was  repeated,  rising  shriller.  From  the  wall 
the  exclamations  arose : 

"  It  is  n't  gay ! " 

"  Sangdieu,  two  in  a  week !  There  's  no  peace 
left!" 

"  Eh,  citoyen,  if  we  're  to  fight  all  Europe,  we 
must  have  soldiers ! " 

A  peddler,  a  transient  from  la  Mere  Corniche's 
cellar,  added  in  high  tones : 

"  Thank  God,  just  the  same,  we  're  men  ! " 

The  crones  listened  critically,  without  emotion, 
resuming  their  old  wives'  tales  when  the  cry  had 
ceased.  Once  a  child,  more  keenly  responsive 

200 


LOVE,  LIFE,  AND   DEATH 

to  suffering,  burst  into  a  frightened  whimper; 
but  the  mother,  with  an  exclamation  of  im- 
patience, sprang  up  and  with  a  slap  silenced  the 
child,  crying : 

"  Little  brat,  who  told  you  to  do  that ! " 

Under  the  torch  that  lighted  the  entrance  to 
the  stairs  the  ghoulish  figure  of  la  Mere  Cor- 
niche  hobbled  forth,  returning  from  her  inspec- 
tion. 

"  Well,  what  news  ?  "  a  voice  cried. 

"  Eh,  it  '11  be  all  night  now,"  she  answered 
peevishly.  "  I  'm  going  to  get  some  sleep." 

The  women,  hearing  this,  broke  up  and  de- 
parted to  their  rooms;  the  men  began  to  grumble: 

"  What  the  devil 's  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  I  'm  for  the  cabaret." 

"  You  can't  stay  here." 

"  There  's  no  sleep  to-night.  Come  on  to  the 
cabaret." 

*'  You  '11  join  us,  Citoyen  Goursac  ?  " 

*'  No ;  I  'm  remaining  here." 

"  And  you,  Citoyen  Barabant  ?  " 

"  I  also." 

"  Morbleu,  you  've  strange  tastes ! " 

They  shuffled  away,  leaving  Barabant  and 
Goursac,  with  their  backs  to  the  maple-tree,  in 
possession  of  the  empty  darkness. 

Presently  lights  began  to  splotch  the  walls,  and 

201 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

at  the  windows  appeared  the  silhouettes  of  femi- 
nine forms,  while  a  running  comment  resounded : 

"  Where  are  the  men  *?  " 

"  Gone  to  the  cabaret,  probably." 

"  They  are,  if  my  man  's  among  them." 

"  They  're  all  weak-kneed." 

"  The  cowards ! " 

The  cry  of  the  woman  returned. 

"  A'ie,  what  lungs ! " 

"  I  yelled  so,  the  police  came  up." 

"  You  were  right." 

"  Pardi ! " 

"  Let 's  hope  she  '11  give  us  some  rest." 

"  Amen ! " 

The  lights,  one  by  one,  flattened  into  the  dark- 
ness. A  single  window,  under  the  eaves,  con- 
tinued bright,  from  which  ever  descended  the 
cry  of  battle. 

"  Does  that  affect  you  ?  "  Goursac  asked,  fol- 
lowing the  momentary  shadows  across  the  panes. 

"  I  don't  like  to  hear  it." 

"You  get  accustomed  to  it,  as  to  all  things. 
Tiens!  I  was  forgetting.  I  heard  to-day  that 
Dossonville  had  escaped." 

"  Absurd." 

"  They  said  he  had  been  seen  with  Louison." 

"  But  Nicole  says  she  saw  him  cut  to  pieces." 

"  Then  doubtless  it  was  a  mistake." 

202 


LOVE,  LIFE,  AND   DEATH 

"  No  news  of  Javogues  ?  "  Barabant  took  up. 

"  None." 

"  That  makes  three  days.  You  see,  he  's  left 
the  city." 

"  I  doubt  it."  Goursac  added  after  a  moment : 
"  I  '11  tell  you  something  curious.  You  know 
Genevieve  ?  " 

"  That  child  who  lives  with  Nicole  ?  " 

"She  's  in  love  with  him." 

"  What !  that  little  ogre  ?  " 

"  Eh,  the  ogre  has  the  spark  of  the  woman  in 
her ! "  He  jerked  his  head  toward  the  lighted 
window.  "  Who  's  with  her?  " 

"Nicole  and  Genevieve." 

"  Much  good  it  '11  do  them."     . 

"Hanh?" 

"  Good  night.  I  'm  going  to  philosophize  !  Are 
you  staying  *?  " 

"  Yes." 

Scarcely  had  Goursac  departed  before  the 
form  of  a  young  girl  emerged  from  the  stairs,  and 
Nicole's  voice  said  softly : 

"  Barabant,  are  you  there  ?  " 

"  Here  I  am." 

He  sprang  eagerly  to  meet  her,  but  Nicole, 
retreating  before  the  decisive  word,  hastened  to 
say: 

"Poor  girl,  it  is  not  going  well.  Genevieve 
203 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

is  staying  with  her.     Have  you  been  waiting 
long?" 

"  I  ?  No.  I  was  talking  with  Goursac.  He 
has  just  left."  Barabant,  determined  to  bring 
matters  to  an  issue,  added  relentlessly,  "  I  was 
just  leaving  for  the  cabaret." 

"  What !  you  were  not  waiting  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  could  not  count  on  your  coming." 

Nicole's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and,  unable  any 
longer  to  bear  the  unequal  contest,  she  cried 
bitterly : 

"  Barabant,  you  are  cruel !  " 

"  I  *?  "  he  answered,  with  a  last  effort.  "  I 
who  have  offered  you  everything  ?  I  whom  you 
will  not  believe  when  I  tell  you  I  love  you  *?  " 

"  I  do !     I  do ! " 

Barabant,  no  longer  resisting  her  weakness, 
cried: 

"  But  I  adore  thee,  Nicole.  I  am  out  of  my 
mind  with  love  for  thee  ! " 

He  seized  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  on 
the  cheeks,  on  the  forehead,  on  the  wet  eyelids, 
with  all  the  overpowering,  reason-consuming 
flame  of  love. 

She  withdrew  from  his  grasp,  and  looking  him 
anxiously  in  the  face,  said : 

"You  thought  me  heartless  and  capricious, 
did  n't  you  ?  " 

204 


LOVE,  LIFE,  AND   DEATH 

"  I  have  forgotten." 

"  But  you  did." 

"  Perhaps." 

"Ah,  Barabant,  it  was  because  I  loved  thee 
that  I  avoided  thee." 

"Why?" 

His  face  expressed  so  much  bewilderment  that 
Nicole  passed  her  hand  gently  over  his  eyes. 

"No,  that  thou  wilt  never  understand.  If  I 
could  only  tell  thee  how  I  love  thee ! "  She 
wanted  him  to  know  the  deep  maternal  longings 
that  he  had  stirred  within  her,  but  all  she  found 
to  say  was,  "  I  feared  to  love  thee  too  much, 
and  so  I  fought  against  myself."  Then,  with 
the  first  awakening  of  coquetry,  she  nestled  on 
his  shoulder  and  said  confidently,  "Forgive 
me." 

"  But  why  ?     Why?  " 

"  It  absorbed  all  that  was  in  me,  and  I  was 
afraid." 

"Of  what?" 

She  did  not  want  to  tell  him  of  her  doubts,  so 
she  said : 

"Women  have  foolish  ideas,  Barabant;  you 
must  not  try  to  understand  them." 

She  joined  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  laid 
her  head  upon  his  shoulder.  Suddenly  the  silence 
was  rent  by  the  inexorable  cry.  In  the  heart  of 
205 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

Nicole  something  penetrated  like  a  knife.     She 
began  to  tremble. 

"  Why  do  you  shake  so  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  is  from  joy." 

"  You  love  me  so,  then  ?  " 

When  the  silence  returned,  she  said : 

"  Barabant,  promise  me  but  one  thing." 

"  I  promise  it." 

"  When  the  day  comes  that  you  are  leaving 
me  for  another  woman,  tell  me  first."  She  added 
low,  as  though  she  did  not  want  him  to  hear: 
"  I  can  kill  myself  without  seeing  her  in  his 
arms ! " 

Barabant,  recoiling  before  such  a  picture  of 
the  future,  cried  from  the  bottom  of  a  heart  of 
pity: 

"  Never !     Never ! " 

"No  —  I  could  not  leave  thee,  even  so,"  she 
said,  weeping  herself  at  the  thought  she  had 
conjured.  "  Let  me  always  be  thy  servant.  I 
am  only  an  ignorant  girl,  not  fit  to  be  thy  com- 
panion. Let  me  take  care  of  thee,  though,  what- 
ever happens ! " 

"  No,  never  that !  Never !  Nicole,  it  is  for 
life,  forever ! "  he  cried  with  the  sincerity  of  the 
moment,  which  is  the  sincerity  of  the  lover.  He 
was  young,  generous,  quick  to  pity,  and  he 
adored  her.  "  You  do  believe  me  ?  " 
206 


LOVE,  LIFE,  AND   DEATH 

"Almost." 

He  redoubled  his  protestations,  while  Nicole, 
laughing  through  her  tears,  cried  gaily : 

"  Go  on,  Barabant.  It  is  good  to  hear.  Don't 
stop  —  more,  more  !  "  At  last  she  herself  ar- 
rested his  protestations :  "  Yes,  Barabant,  I  be- 
lieve thee.  Oh,  anything  you  can  say  to  me  I  '11 
believe  at  this  moment !  " 

"  That  I  want  thee  while  I  live  *?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Forever  ?  " 

"  For  —  ever."  She  drew  herself  up  to  his  lips. 
"  I  have  been  so  miserable  waiting  for  thee." 

Their  lips  met  and  they  stood  in  the  darkness 
as  one  body,  while  above,  unheeded,  from  the 
darkness  broke  out  the  cry  of  life  and  death. 

"  Thou  wilt  not  leave  me,  Nicole,  again,  neither 
now  nor  ever  ?  " 

"  Do  I  not  love  thee  ?  "  she  said  simply. 

They  passed  from  the  shadow  and  moved, 
tightly  enlaced,  through  the  dim  region  of  the 
dwindling  torch,  slowly  up  the  steep,  hard  steps 
into  the  enveloping  darkness  beyond.  Again 
was  lifted  up  the  cry  of  anguish  and  rebellion, 
the  cry  of  Prometheus,  heritage  of  woman,  and 
again  came  silence. 


207 


PART   II 

(One  Year  Later) 


FAMINE 

ON  the  first  day  of  September,  1793,  Nicole 
left  the  Rue  Maugout  with  the  intention 
of  visiting  the  Convention.  Her  step,  that  a  year 
ago  would  have  been  confounded  with  the  hum  of 
life,  now  echoed  down  the  quiet  streets  without 
interruption.  Her  eye,  that  once  flashed  so 
alertly  through  the  curious  crowd,  passed  with 
the  indifference  of  habit  down  the  deserted  vista, 
and  returned  into  the  fixity  of  mental  abstraction. 
The  passers-by  were  rare;  those  who  hung  on  the 
windows  screened  themselves.  At  a  few  door- 
ways groups  of  emaciated  children  watched  her 
progress,  eyeing  her  basket  with  wolfish  eyes.  A 
year  had  brought  but  slight  change  in  her.  She 
still  retained  the  bloom  of  youth,  but  her  glance 
was  more  pensive.  She  was  no  longer  gipsy  or 
girl.  A  certain  thoughtfulness  had  succeeded, 
elusive  and  arch,  that  told  of  the  awakened  ima- 
gination. 

Twice  on  her  way  a  band  of  police  envelop- 

211 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

ing  a  prisoner  passed,  as  passes  a  whirlwind 
over  the  stretches  of  the  desert.  Nicole  gave 
them  but  a  casual  glance  ;  such  of  the  inhabitants 
as  the  familiar  fall  of  feet  brought  to  the  win- 
dows retired  indifferently,  the  prisoners  them- 
selves stoically  adding  their  resignation  to  the 
monotony  of  the  scene. 

On  the  thoroughfares  knots  of  Tapedures,  the 
ruffians  of  the  Terror,  became  frequent,  stalking  the 
town,  beating  the  streets  for  their  human  game. 
Occasionally  she  met  a  bill-poster  affixing  the  lat- 
est decree  of  the  Republic — violent  notes,  in  blue, 
violet,  yellow,  or  red,  that  splashed  the  walls  on 
every  side.  About  the  bakeries  and  butcher-shops 
knots  of  beggars  were  assembled,  often  reclining 
on  the  ground,  watching  with  dreary,  troubled 
glances  those  havens  of  food,  ready  to  battle  for  a 
scrap  of  refuse. 

A  mother  from  a  distant  quarter,  drifting  from 
shop  to  shop,  halted  before  such  a  group  with  a 
timid  inquiry.  From  the  loiterers,  watching  with 
confident  indifference,  a  hag,  extending  her  shriv- 
eled arm,  shouted  sarcastically  : 

*'  Welcome,  citoyenne.  You  want  something 
to  eat  ?  Take  it ;  take  it.  We  are  so  tired  of  eat- 
ing meat  in  this  section  —  nothing  but  beef  and 
mutton  and  venison  and  pheasants  here,  morn- 
ing and  night.  We  get  tired  of  that  sort  of 

212 


FAMINE 

thing  in  the  end,  you  know.  You  were  right 
to  come  here;  see  how  well  fed  we  are,  how 
sleek !  Don't  believe  him,  his  cellars  are  full  of 
meat.  It 's  rotting  away.  No  one  to  eat  it !  " 

From  the  fasting  hags  a  rumble,  rather  than  a 
laugh,  went  up.  The  woman  who  had  covered 
perhaps  half  of  Paris  melted  into  a  storm  of 
sobs,  beseeching  a  crust  or  a  bone  for  the  sake  of 
her  children.  Then  the  hag,  her  raillery  chang- 
ing to  anger,  burst  out : 

"  And  we,  have  we  no  children  *?  Are  we  not 
mothers,  too  *?  Hark  to  the  woman  :  she  thinks 
she  's  the  only  one  to  be  pitied !  Be  off!  Leave 
us  in  peace  with  your  eternal  wailings !  " 

At  other  times,  women  from  the  quarter  itself, 
returning  from  a  scouring  of  the  markets,  would 
awaken  a  sudden  flame  of  interest. 

"  What  luck  ?  " 

"  What  did  you  get  ?  " 

"Bread?" 

"  Meat  •?  " 

The  scouts  always  denied  success.  Then  a 
chorus  arose : 

"She  's  hiding  it !" 

"  Show  us  your  basket ! " 

"  Eh,  and  under  your  dress !  " 

Once,  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  a  slip  of  a  girl 
had  almost  freed  herself  of  the  questioning  crowd, 

213 


IN   THE  NAME   OF  LIBERTY 

when  a  lean  dog  with  a  sharp  nose  bounded, 
sniffing,  to  her  side.  There  was  a  quick  turning 
in  the  crowd,  and  the  nearest  woman,  leaping  to 
her  feet,  shouted  hysterically : 

"  I  smell  dried  fish !  " 

The  next  moment,  up  the  street  a  scuttling 
speck  fled  before  a  frenzied  cloud  from  which 
shot  out  white  arms  and  grasping  hands. 

Through  such  mad  scenes  of  famine,  Nicole 
arrived  at  the  Hall  of  the  Convention;  where, 
being  early,  she  entered  the  Tuileries  to  await  the 
arrival  of  Barabant. 

The  gardens  that  once  resounded  with  the  hum 
of  life,  that  once  were  gay  with  the  swish  of  many 
colors,  were  now  brown  with  the  uninterrupted 
stretch  of  earth,  rustling  with  the  pervading  sigh 
of  leaves.  Already  in  the  trees,  in  the  air,  and  in 
the  tired  soil  was  the  melancholy  of  the  parting 
season.  Each  breath  that  disturbed  the  branches, 
however  slightly,  set  free  a  caravansary  of  flutter- 
ing leaves,  and  the  leaves  were  sear. 

She  seated  herself  on  a  bench  and  abandoning 
the  basket  and  clasping  her  knee,  watched  the 
whirling  leaves  heap  themselves  about  her  feet. 
One  or  two  poised  on  her  shoulder,  in  her  hair, 
without  her  heeding  them.  Presently  Goursac, 
also  on  his  way  to  the  Convention,  joined  her. 

"  ^This  is  the  work  of  the  cursed  Montagne ! " 
214 


FAMINE 

he  said  grimly,  viewing  the  desolate  gardens. 
"And  yet  Javogues  is  not  satisfied.  He  would 
turn  it  into  a  cemetery!  " 

"  Listen,  my  friend,"  she  said  earnestly.  "  If 
the  Girondins  fall,  you  will  not  stay  to  sacrifice 
your  life  to  Javogues  ?  " 

"Do  you  think  that  I,  a  Girondin,  would  fly 
from  that  rascal ! "  he  cried  indignantly.  "  He 
works  in  the  dark ;  he  is  incapable  of  striking  in 
the  open." 

"  And  if  the  Girondins  fall  ?  "  she  persisted. 
But  he  refused  to  entertain  the  suggestion. 

"  This  reminds  me,"  he  said,  with  a  sweep  of 
his  arm,  "  of  the  time  we  were  here  a  year  ago. 
Do  you  remember  ?  " 

She  nodded. 

"  Well,"  he  said  brusquely,  "  are  you  happy?  " 

"Yes." 

"  As  happy  as  you  thought  *?  " 

"  No,"  she  said  slowly, "  but  it  is  my  fault. 
The  fault  of  my  position,  if  you  wish.  I  am 
jealous ! " 

"Of  Louison?" 

"  No  !     Of  what  may  happen." 

"  Why  should  n't  he-  marry  you  ? "  he  said 
angrily. 

"  Because  I  have  not  asked  him,"  she  answered 
wearily.  "  And  because  I  would  not  have  it." 

215 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  love  him,  my  friend,"  she  said  in 
rebuke.  "And  because  a  waif  of  the  streets  does 
not  marry  a  man  of  education  and  position  un- 
less she  wishes  to  drag  him  down." 

Goursac,  to  her  surprise,  leaned  over  and 
patted  her  hand;  then,  as  though  ashamed  to 
have  shown  such  tenderness,  he  added  gruffly : 

"  That  is  the  only  thing  that  can  make  you 
happy." 

She  did  not  deny  it. 

"  I  know  what  you  have  passed  through." 

She  shook  her  head  incredulously. 

"  It  is  but  the  history  of  womankind,"  he  said 
laconically. 

She  took  a  leaf  that  had  fallen  on  her  hair  and 
tore  it  slowly  to  shreds. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  warming  to  the  subject, 
"you  but  resume  in  a  year  what  woman  has 
struggled  for  throughout  the  centuries.  What 
is  marriage  but  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  *? 
Who  imagined  the  bond  ?  The  weaker  being, 
woman ;  and  all  the  advances  up  the  social  scale 
have  resulted  from  her  silent  striving  toward 
equality  with  man.  Without  marriage  you  are 
a  slave  at  the  mercy  of  an  angry  word  or  a 
hostile  mood;  a  slave  who,  in  her  search  for 
security,  must  learn,  without  tears  or  show  of 
216 


FAMINE 

fatigue,  to  render  herself  indispensable  to  the 
man." 

Nicole  rose  abruptly,  frowning,  and  with  ner- 
vous fingers ;  but  immediately  she  reseated  her- 
self with  a  forced  laugh. 

Presently,  seeing  that  he  had  said  more  than 
he  should  have,  he  withdrew,  leaving  her  im- 
mersed in  the  reverie  his  words  had  awakened. 

Goursac  had  guessed  truly.  What  woman- 
kind has  endured,  she  had  begun  from  the  bottom. 
The  instinct  of  self-preservation  within  her  had 
awakened  the  immense  intuitions  that  in  the 
silent,  enduring  conflict  of  the  sexes  alike  direct 
the  wife,  the  mistress,  and  the  outcast.  She 
had  studied  Barabant,  seeking  the  needs  of 
his  temperament,  discovering  his  faults,  and  lead- 
ing him  to  gradual  dependence  on  her.  Her 
imagination  awoke.  She  saw  the  peril  of  mere 
domestic  companionship.  Where  at  first  she  had 
belittled  the  force  of  passionate  love,  she  had 
come  to  realize  its  necessity  and  the  need  of 
constantly  provoking  his  curiosity.  She  hid  her 
thoughts  from  him,  making  of  herself  a  mystery, 
employing  that  coquetry  which,  to  the  seeing 
eye,  has  at  the  bottom  nothing  but  pathos.  She 
had  loved  as  a  child.  She  had  become  an  actress. 

But  in  her  heart  of  jealousy  and  doubt  she 
knew  well  all  her  artifices  could  avail  no  longer 
217 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

than  her  youth.  In  marriage  alone  was  peace 
and  security.  The  daring  of  the  thought  frightened 
her.  She  knew  it  to  be  beyond  her  lot,  nor  in 
her  devotion  to  Barabant  would  she  have  it  so, 
but  each  day  the  dream  returned,  as  from  a  pit 
one  sees  a  star,  or  from  a  wreck  the  beacon  on 
the  forbidden  shore. 

Barabant  found  her  lost  in  reverie,  the  leaves 
again  unnoticed  on  her  shoulders. 

"  The  effect  is  pretty,"  he  said,  smiling  down 
at  her. 

"  On  whom  the  leaves  fall  and  rest,  the  earth 
will  fall  before  the  year  is  out,"  Nicole  said. 
"  That 's  the  superstition." 

"  Nicole,  I  forbid  you  to  say  such  things,"  he 
cried  sharply.  "  They  hurt  me,  and  you  know 
it!" 

Satisfied  with  this  evidence  of  his  affection,  she 
sprang  up,  brushing  away  the  leaves,  and  saying 
with  a  smile : 

"  There,  they  have  no  power  now." 

"You  are  early." 

"  Yes ;  I  was  a  little  melancholy ;  I  wanted  to 
reflect.  The  gardens  are  delightful  for  that." 

"  I  do  not  find  them  so." 

"  The  mood  is  gone,  now  that  you  are  here." 
She  took  his  arm,  smiling  up  into  his  face.  They 
strolled  through  the  alleys  of  chestnut  and  maple, 
218 


FAMINE 

Nicole  drawing  her  skirt  across  her,  placing  her 
feet  daintily,  shaking  her  head  in  pretended  anger 
as  from  time  to  time  a  leaf  fluttered  against  her 
cheek. 

"And  the  Girondins,  mon  ami?  You  have 
told  me  nothing  of  them." 

"  It  grows  worse  and  worse  for  them.  The 
Jacobins  are  relentless." 

"  Don't  identify  yourself  too  much  with  them, 
then." 

"  But  that  is  cowardice." 

"No.  If  the  Girondins  fall,  all  the  more  will 
the  Nation  need  the  Moderates,"  Nicole  answered 
anxiously,  for  her  one  dread  was  of  his  impulsive 
nature.  "  Why  play  into  the  hands  of  our  ene- 
mies ?  " 

Leaving  the  gardens,  they  entered  the  Place 
de  la  Revolution.  The  vast  square  that  had 
swarmed  with  the  multitude  on  the  day  of  the 
execution  of  the  king  was  devoid  of  movement, 
except  where  a  few  curious,  wandering  toward  the 
emplacement  of  the  absent  guillotine,  streaked 
like  insects  across  the  placid  .expanse. 

Nearing  the  plaster  statue  of  Liberty,  Nicole 
was  attracted  by  the  lank  figure  of  a  man. 

"  Look  over  there,"  she  said,  drawing  Bara- 
bant's  attention.  "  Would  n't  you  say  that  it 
was  Dossonville  *?  "  . 

219 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

"  There  's  a  little  resemblance." 

"  Much." 

Barabant,  who  continued  to  study  the  figure, 
exclaimed : 

"  Really,  the  resemblance  is  striking ! " 

At  this  moment  the  man,  turning,  disclosed  in- 
deed the  familiar  features,  while  the  well-known 
voice  cried : 

"  Mordieu  !  It  is  Nicole  and  my  little  orator 
Barabant !  Well,  what  's  the  matter  ?  Touch 
hands ! " 

For  Nicole,  with  a  movement  of  superstition, 
had  crossed  herself,  while  Barabant,  stock-still,  re- 
mained Staring  stupidly  at  the  apparition,  until 
he  was  able  to  blurt  out : 

"  What,  it  is  you  !     Then  you  're  not  dead." 

"  Not  even  once  ! "  he  cried,  slapping  his  hand 
emphatically  across  his  chest.  "  I  give  you  my 
word,  it  is  not  true !  Come,  feel  of  me.  Is  this  the 
arm  or  the  chest  of  a  specter  *?  " 

"  Still,  I  saw  you,"  exclaimed  Nicole,  unable  to 
reconcile  the  fact  to  her  memory  —  "I  saw  you 
at  the  gate  of  the  Abbaye — " 

"  My  dear  girl,"  Dossonville  responded,  with 
much  good  humor, "  believe  me,  I  am  not  dead ; 
and,  what 's  more,  I  never  have  been  dead  that  I 
remember." 

"But  —  " 

220 


FAMINE 

"  Mordieu,  Nicole !  are  you  determined  to  ex- 
terminate me  ?  "  Dossonville  cried.  "  Let  us 
reason.  You  saw  me  at  the  gate,  but  you  did  n't 
see  me  cut  down,  did  you  *? " 

"  No." 

"  Then  I  reject  your  theory." 

The  three  burst  out  laughing,  until  Dosson- 
ville suddenly  exclaimed : 

"  But  come,  Louison  must  have  told  you." 
.  "  Louison ! "    echoed    Barabant    and    Nicole, 
more  and  more  amazed. 

"  Extraordinary  woman  !  She  can  even  keep  a 
secret  then !  "  Dossonville  cried.  "  Why,  it  was 
Louison  who  found  me  in  the  crowd  ancl  piloted 
me  to  safety." 

He  recounted  shortly  the  events  of  his  escape, 
adding,  as  he  extended  his  arm  in  a  sweeping  em- 
brace of  the  horizon : 

"  And  here  I  have  lain  concealed.  I  don't  say 
where;  the'secret  is  too  good.  For  ten  months  I 
lay  like  a  rat.  For  the  last  two  I  have  gone  out 
only  after  midnight.  To-day  is  the  first  trip  into 
the  blessed  sun." 

"  Do  you  dare  to  risk  it  even  now  ?  "  Barabant 
cried. 

"Yes,  now.  Everything  is  arranged,"  he  an- 
swered carelessly.  "  It  was  a  little  long  coming, 
but  it  came." 

221 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

But  suddenly  Nicole,  remembering, exclaimed: 
"  Barabant,  you  must  warn  him  that  Javogues  is 
back." 

"Back!"  Dossonville  repeated.  "When  did 
he  leave  ?  " 

Barabant,  in  his  turn,  recounted  the  arrest  and 
disappearance  of  the  Marseillais,  concluding : 

"  He  reappeared  with  the  rise  of  the  Terror- 
ists." 

"  Ai'e,  aie ! "  Dossonville  cried,  having  fol- 
lowed the  recital  with  interest ;  "  I  cannot  say  that 
the  situation  is  pleasant  for  the  Citoyen  Gour- 
sac." 

A  shadow  passed  over  the  brow  of  the  young 
man,  and  he  answered  bitterly : 

"  I  was  a  fool.  We  should  have  crushed  the 
monster  when  we  had  him." 

"  There  's  good  in  him." 

"What!     You  say  it?" 

"  He  wanted  to  cut  my  throat,"  Dossonville 
replied ;  "  but  that  's  nothing.  He  is  sincere. 
It  is  true,  from  his  point  of  view,  there  are  not 
three  men  who  should  be  alive  in  France  to-day; 
but  that  is  only  a  prejudice.  I  am  keeping  you ; 
where  are  you  bound  ?  " 

"  To  the  Convention." 

"  Always  a  Girondin  ?  " 

"  Well,"  Barabant  answered  doubtfully,  "  the 

222 


FAMINE 

Girondins  had  their  chance,  and  they  could  not 
control  the  Convention." 

"  I  say  it  's  their  own  fault  if  they  fall,"  Nicole 
interjected  hastily. 

"Nicole,  you  are  right,"  Dossonville  replied. 
"  Moreover,  they  are  about  to  lose  their  heads." 
He  drew  his  finger  across  his  neck.  "  In  a  po- 
litical party,  that  's  a  grave  failing." 

"  What,  guillotine  the  Girondins !  "  Barabant 
exclaimed.  "  Guillotine  Vergniaud,  Brissot, — 
they  would  never  dare  ! " 

"  Bah!  you  look  upon  it  too  seriously,"  Dosson- 
ville retorted.  "  What  is  the  guillotine  *?  Sim- 
ply a  vote  of  censure.  But  Louison — where  can 
I  find  her?" 

"At  the  Pretre  Pendu,"  Nicole  answered. 
"  You  '11  find  her  there  about  noon.  That  is,  if 
there  is  no  execution  this  afternoon." 

"  The  Pretre  Pendu  ?     Don't  know  it." 

"  It  opened  lately  in  the  Rue  Maugout,  oppo- 
site No.  38." 

"You  call  it  —  " 

"  The  Pretre  Pendu." 

"  Charming ! " 

"  I  warn  you,  Javogues  will  be  there." 

"  You  are  positive  *?  " 

"  Absolutely." 

**  Good.     Then  I  '11  set  out  at  once." 
223 


II 

DOSSONVILLE    EARNS    A    KISS 

DOSSONVILLE,  taking  the  river  bank,  pro- 
ceeded with  many  inquiring  halts,  inhaling 
the  air  and  sunshine  in  full  breaths.  He  strolled 
into  the  halles,  where  the  stalls,  in  state  of  siege, 
extended  in  long,  deserted  barracks;  no  buying, 
no  selling,  no  provisions,  only  in  the  shadows  the 
same  clusters  of  limp  basking  beggars,  slumber- 
ing with  one  ear  alert.  \ 

As  he  languidly  pursued  his  way,  a  door  at 
his  side  was  flung  violently  open  and  a  man 
bearing  on  his  back  an  enormous  side  of  beef 
scurried  across  the  place  toward  a  butcher-shop, 
the  door  of  which  swung  open  to  receive  him. 
Instantly,  with  a  hue  and  cry  from  every  corner, 
there  was  a  swift  leaping  of  famished  men, 
women,  and  children.  Before  Dossonville  could 
leap  aside  he  was  caught  in  the  rush,  elbowed, 
buffeted,  and  thrown  off  his  feet.  When  again 
he  rose,  the  butcher  was  buried  under  a  mound  of 
ravenous  humanity,  thirty  feet  from  his  destina- 
224 


DOSSONVILLE  EARNS  A   KISS 

tion,  while  the  square  was  obscured  with  the  mul- 
titude that  battled  over  the  shreds  of  meat  which 
came  up  from  the  bottom  of  the  heap. 

Hardly  had  he  extricated  himself  from  the 
tangle  when,  in  the  Place  de  la  Bastille,  a  group 
of  savage  boys,  pursuing  a  dog  with  a  bone,  swept 
by  him,  snatching  at  the  fleeing  animal,  un- 
mindful of  its  anger.  One  hand  at  last,  more 
fortunate  than  the  others,  closed  over  the  brute, 
and  the  human  children  tore  the  bone  from  the 
beast.  Pursuing  now  a  haggard  boy,  they  re- 
turned in  a  cloud,  panting,  with  famine-inflamed 
eyes,  while  the  lean,  infuriated  brute  at  their 
heels  struck  with  angry  jaws  into  the  pack. 

Beset  on  every  side  by  troops  of  children  too 
weak  to  extend  their  hands,  Dossonville  arrived 
at  the  Rue  Maugout,  readily  recognizing  the 
Cabaret  of  the  Pretre  Pendu  by  its  figure  of  a 
priest,  which,  swinging  from  a  miniature  gibbet, 
advertised  the  republican  principles  of  the  host. 

Seeing  no  one  before  the  entrance  of  No.  38, 
he  penetrated  into  the  inner  room  of  the  cabaret, 
where,  the  two  or  three  groups  occupied  with 
cards  being  unknown  to  him,  he  exchanged  salu- 
tations with  the  hostess,  asking  genially : 

"  Your  husband,  citoyenne,  I  hope,  is  frying 
me  a  bit  of  steak  ?  " 

"  My  man  's  with  the  army." 
15  225 


IN   THE  NAME   OF  LIBERTY 

"  A  patriot,  then." 

"  And  there  's  no  meat." 

"  An  omelet  will  do." 

"  No  eggs,  no  fish,  no  vegetables." 

"  Diable !  that  leaves  nothing  but  bread  and 
cheese." 

"  No  bread,  no  cheese  ! " 

"  Mordieu,  what  am  I  going  to  lunch  on  *?  " 

"  Soup." 

"  Ah  ! "  Dossonville  nodded,  with  understand- 
ing. "True!  As  long  as  the  material  world 
exists,  soup  is  possible.  Well,  soup  be  it,  cito- 
yenne,  soon  and  hot." 

He  passed  curiously  to  the  card-players,  for 
his  ear  had  caught  such  strange  expressions  as 
these : 

"  I  play  the  Liberty  of  Marriage." 

"  I  the  Genius  of  Peace." 

"  The  Equality  of  Rank." 

"  Liberty  of  the  Press." 

"  Taken  by  the  Genius  of  Arts." 

Dossonville,  much  perplexed,  moved  to  a  sur- 
vey of  the  pack.  He  found  the  Monarchs  in- 
deed dethroned;  the  Kings  succeeded  by  the 
Geniuses  of  War,  Commerce,  Peace,  and  the 
Arts;  the  Queens  replaced  by  the  Liberties  of 
Faith,  Professions,  Marriage,  and  the  Press.  The 
Knaves  themselves,  as  though  suspected  of  roy- 
226 


DOSSONVILLE   EARNS   A   KISS 

alistic  tendencies,  had  yielded  to  the  Equalities 
of  Duties,  Color,  Rights,  and  Rank. 

"  The  sentiment  is  perfect,"  he  murmured  to 
himself,  "  perfect,  but  perplexing." 

The  hostess  appearing  with  a  capacious  bowl, 
he  returned  to  his  corner,  where  he  contemplated 
the  soup  with  that  respect  and  curiosity  which  a 
Parisian  gives  to  a  dish  of  which  he  has  not  had 
the  making.  He  stirred  it  doubtfully,  and  at 
the  first  taste  drew  a  long  face. 

"  Tonnerre  de  Dieu  !  They  Ve  put  the  aristo- 
crats in  the  soup,"  he  grumbled.  "  However, 
being  good  patriots,  we  must  eat  it." 

He  was  bending  over  the  bowl,  when  a  shadow 
darkened  the  open  doorway,  and  with  the  fra- 
grant scent  of  flowers  came  the  voice  of  Louison, 
chanting : 

"  Cockades,  patriots;  cockades,  my  Sans-Cu- 
lottes.  The  last  ones  I  have  been  able  to  save 
for  you." 

She  passed  among  them,  calling  to  them  by 
name,  tapping  them  on  the  shoulders,  but  re- 
ceiving nothing  but  banter, 

"  Are  they  good  to  eat  —  your  cockades  ?  " 

"As  a  salad,  nothing  is  better."  Taking  up 
the  idea,  she  repeated  laughingly :  "  Buy  my 
salads,  citoyens ;  buy  my  patriotic  salads ! " 

Wishing  to  enjoy  her  surprise,  Dossonvilie 
227 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

kept  silent,  leaning  forward,  his  chin  in  his 
palm,  smiling  expectantly.  Thus  Louison  dis- 
covered him.  The  very  slightest  look  of  aston- 
ishment passed  over  her  face,  a  fugitive  amaze- 
ment that  she  immediately  controlled. 

"Louison,  you  are  discretion  itself,"  Dosson- 
ville  said  approvingly,  his  smile  extending  to  a 
grin  as  he  stretched  forth  his  hand.  "  If  ever 
the  Revolution  places  women  in  power  (and 
what  is  impossible  to-day*?),  I  '11  recommend 
you  for  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs." 

"  Citoyen,  citoyen,  you  are  mad  to  enter  this 
place,"  Louison  cried.  "  Do  you  not  know  that 
this  is  the  headquarters  of  Javogues  ?  " 

"  I  know  it ;  but  see  you,  Louison,  that  ani- 
mal is  so  stupid." 

Divining  that  despite  his  careless  manner  he 
was  fortified  against  the  encounter,  she  relaxed 
and  said  more  calmly : 

"  Really,  I  did  n't  expect  that  you  'd  escape." 

"  My  dear  Louison,  it  is  not  so  difficult." 

"  In  these  days  it  is." 

"  A  man  has  as  many  lives  as  a  cat,"  he  said 
ironically.  "  It  is  the  imagination  that  is  lacking." 

As  though  to  put  this  theory  to  the  test,  a 
voice  jarred  upon  the  stillness,  crying : 

"  Where  is  the  spy  ?  " 

The  next  instant  the  cabaret  was  thrown  into 
228 


DOSSONVILLE   EARNS  A   KISS 

turmoil  as  Javogues,  at  the  head  of  three  or  four 
companions,  rushed  in. 

"  Good  day,  citoyen,"  Dossonville's  cool  voice 
was  heard  saying  above  the  uproar,  "and  how 
goes  it  with  you  since  we  parted  last  ?  " 

Guided  by  his  voice,  Javogues  precipitated 
himself  toward  his  enemy,  but  as  his  hand  shot 
forth  it  stopped  in  mid-air,  and  he  fell  back  in 
astonishment. 

Dossonville,  never  losing  his  poise,  with  an 
imperceptible  movement  of  his  hand  had  rolled 
back  the  lapel  of  his  redingote,  disclosing  on  his 
breast  the  shield  of  an  agent  de  surete. 

"  Impossible  ! "  Javogues  exclaimed,  recoiling. 
"  You  an  agent  de  surete  !  It 's  a  counterfeit !  " 

Dossonville  checked  the  second  rush  as  coolly 
as  the  first.  His  hand  went  into  his  breast 
pocket  and  withdrew  a  document,  which  he  ten- 
dered to  Javogues  on  the  tips  of  his  fingers,  say- 
ing : 

"  Read,  and  grow  wise." 

The  Marseillais  passed  it  to  a  companion, 
who  shook  his  head  and  passed  it  to  a  third,  who 
read  in  a  piping  voice : 

OFFICE  OF  THE  COMMITTEE  OF  SAFETY 
The  Citoyen  Santerre  having  appeared  before  us  and  estab- 
lished the  alibi  of  the  Citoyen  Dossonville  on  the  day  of  the 
Tenth  of  August,  we  declare  the  Citoyen  Dossonville  innocent 
229 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

of  all  suspicion.  Furthermore,  as  it  appears  he  refused  to  disclose 
the  nature  of  the  secret  mission,  in  the  interests  of  the  Nation,  on 
which  he  was  engaged,  even  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  we  declare  the 
Citoyen  Dossonville  a  patriot  who  deserves  the  gratitude  of  his 
country. 

We  further  appoint  the  said  Citoyen  Dossonville  agent  de 
surete,  with  the  following  powers  — 

**  The  rest  is  quite  technical,"  Dossonville  in- 
terrupted. He  turned  to  Javogues,  who,  thus 
robbed  of  his  dearest  vengeance,  remained  trans- 
fixed with  stupor.  "  You  see,  Citoyen  Javogues, 
you  cannot  always  tell  a  traitor  by  the  look  in 
his  eyes." 

Stung  by  the  taunt,  Javogues  advanced  furi- 
ously : 

"  It  's  a  lie,"  he  cried.  "  It  's  another  of  his 
tricks.  The  paper  is  a  forgery."  Then  turning 
to  his  companions,  he  shouted :  "  Don't  let  him 
out  of  your  sight  until  I  return  ! " 

Dossonville,  erect  and  solemn,  checked  him 
sternly : 

"  Enough  !  Enough,  citoyen,  do  you  hear  *? 
What  you  have  done  I  forgive  —  but  go  no 
further!  An  act  such  as  you  contemplate  is  a 
defiance  of  the  Nation.  I  represent  the  Nation. 
Citoyen  Javogues,  I  warn  you,  at  the  next  at- 
tack you  make  against  me  I  '11  have  you  on  the 
scaffold  within  twenty-four  hours." 
230 


DOSSONVILLE   EARNS   A   KISS 

Javogues,  impressed  despite  himself,  found  no 
encouragement  in  the  faces  of  his  comrades.  He 
turned  on  his  heel  and  went  dejectedly  toward 
the  door.  There  he  wheeled,  and  shaking  his 
fist,  cried : 

"  Dossonville,  if  I  am  not  to  hate  you,  arrest 
me,  guillotine  me  at  once.  For,  as  long  as  I 
live,  it  is  war  between  you  and  me !  If  you 
want  me,  you  '11  find  me  here,  at  five." 

Dossonville  remained  a  moment  pensive  and 
erect. 

"  Mordieu  ! "  he  exclaimed  at  last,  "  the  fellow 
is  genuine.  Devil  take  me  if  I  can  help  liking 
him."  Then  turning  to  Louison,  who  had  fol- 
lowed him  with  fascinated  eyes,  he  said :  "  As 
for  you,  ma  belle,  I  owe  you  everything.  To 
begin  with,  I  swear  an  eternal  love." 

And,  taking  her  in  his  arms,  he  kissed  her  on 
the  cheek,  and  then  sat  down. 

In  a  moment  the  room  was  swept  of  its  terri- 
fied guests,  while  the  proprietress,  disappearing 
through  a  back  door,  left  the  memory  of  a  red 
stocking. 

Louison,  at  the  familiarity,  recoiled,  while 
anger  like  a  blast  from  an  oven  inflamed  her 
face.  Her  hand  stole  to  her  bosom,  and  with  a 
sudden  movement  she  hid  a  knife  behind  her. 
Dossonville,  feigning  ignorance,  appeared  en- 
231 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

grossed  in  the  selection  of  a  cockade  from  the 
abandoned  basket.  But  as  the  girl  in  her  pas- 
sion leaped  at  him,  he  sprang  aside,  whipped 
out  his  sword,  and  flung  himself  behind  a  table. 

Then,  those  without,  flattening  their  noses 
against  the  window  or  peering  through  the  door- 
way, beheld  a  furious  combat  between  them ;  the 
man,  always  cool  and  alert,  checking  the  rushes  of 
the  girl  with  the  point  of  his  sword,  turning,  re- 
treating, or  advancing  as  his  assailant,  with  the 
rapidity  of  a  bird,  flew  from  point  to  point,  dart- 
ing, feinting,  or  striking  for  an  opening.  Mean- 
while above  the  scuffle  and  the  patter  of  feet  the 
voice  of  Dossonville  rose  imperturbably  in  run- 
ning comment : 

"  Hoop-la,  parried !  A  little  more  to  the  left 
and  you  had  me.  Mordieu,  who  'd  have  thought 
a  pretty  woman  would  resent  a  kiss?  Such  a 
fraternal  kiss,  too,  so  full  of  gratitude  !  Perhaps 
that  's  the  trouble;  you  never  can  tell  with  a 
woman.  What  now  ?  " 

Bounding  on  the  table,  the  girl  without  a 
pause  leaped  full  at  him. 

"  Bravo !  That 's  a  jump  for  you.  What  a 
woman!  Louison,  you  are  splendid.  Dame,  what 
fury !  A  toi ! " 

Hard  pressed  with  the  recklessness  of  her  at- 
tacks, he  threatened  her  throat  so  closely  that, 

232 


DOSSONVILLE  EARNS   A   KISS 

with  the  slightest  stiffening  of  his  arm,  he  would 
have  run  her  through. 

"  A  life  for  a  life !  there  's  gratitude  for  you ! " 

From  outside  they  cried  to  him  offers  of  help. 

"Never;  any  man  that  interferes,  I  '11  shoot 
down.  This  little  affair  is  between  us, —  eh, 
Louison  ?  What  now  ?  " 

He  sprang  away,  barely  avoiding  a  chair  hurled 
to  break  down  his  guard. 

"  That  was  well  imagined.  Mille  diables, 
what  a  woman  —  and  not  a  sound  !  Louison,  I 
adore  you  already.  Louison,  my  dear,  do  you 
believe  in  another  life?  If  you  would  only 
guarantee  me  another,  I  'd  give  you  this  out  of 
courtesy, —  only  then  I  could  n't  adore  you. 
What  energy !  If  you  are  getting  tired,  Louison, 
rest  a  while." 

But  her  answer  was  to  fling  herself  again  at 
him,  seeking  to  come  inside  his  guard  by  stoop- 
ing suddenly  to  one  side,  grasping  at  his  blade 
with  her  free  hand.  Dossonville,  forced  to  meet 
the  fury  of  the  onslaught,  a  second  time  presented 
the  point  of  his  blade  to  her  throat;  but  this 
time,  so  impetuous  was  her  rush  that  only  the 
instant  withdrawal  of  the  weapon  saved  her. 

"  A  second  time,  Louison,  I  spare  you.  My 
gratitude,  you  see,  is  eternal.  Louison,  you  fight 
too  recklessly,  you  expose  yourself.  You  rely 

233 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

too  much  on  my  sense  of  gratitude.  Hoop-la ! 
Again  I  had  you !  If  it  's  only  a  matter  of  a 
kiss  that  stands  between  us,  you  might  give  it 
back  to  me.  Ha,  ha !  Well  struck,  Louison  ! 
Where  will  it  end  ?  My  gratitude  restrains  me, 
and  you  must  realize  what  a  good  fellow  you  are 
trying  to  end  —  " 

Suddenly,  to  the  astonishment  of  all,  Dosson- 
ville  included,  Louison  halted,  panting  and  heav- 
ing, restored  the  knife  to  her  bosom,  and  burst  out 
laughing. 

"  Dossonville,"  she  cried,  flinging  out  her  hand 
in  acclamation,  "  you  're  a  man !  " 

He  dropped  on  both  knees,  exclaiming :  "  That 
word  disarms  me.  Do  me  the  favor  of  cutting 
my  neck." 

With  a  movement  as  swift  as  her  attack,  the 
girl  passed  to  his  side,  and,  bending  suddenly, 
kissed  him  on  the  forehead. 

"  That  one,  Dossonville,"  she  cried,  "  you  have 
deserved." 

And  with  a  laugh,  she  flitted  into  the  street, 
where  the  spectators,  respecting  her  sudden 
whims,  prudently  left  her  an  open  passage. 


234 


Ill 

WAITING    FOR    BREAD 

IN  this  season  of  famine,  when  the  supply  of 
bread  barely  sufficed  to  feed  one  half  of  the 
population,  by  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  long 
lines  began  to  form  in  front  of  the  bakeries,  to 
await  through  the  long  night  the  morning  dis- 
tribution of  loaves.  Javogues,  who  took  the 
occasion  of  this  assembling  to  study  the  crowd 
for  signs  of  traitors  or  faint-hearted  republicans, 
returned  each  evening,  toward  five  o'clock,  to 
the  Pretre  Pendu  in  a  gale  of  patriotic  ferocity. 

But  this  afternoon,  to  the  astonishment  of  those 
who  were  accustomed  to  quail  before  his  glance, 
his  lagging  step,  his  knotted  club  trailing  at  his 
heels,  and  his  head  relaxed  on  his  shoulders  gave 
every  appearance  of  dejection.  At  the  Pretre 
Pendu  he  sank  gratefully  into  a  chair,  covered 
the  table  with  his  arms,  and  plunged  moodily 
into  his  thoughts. 

Presently,  arm  in  arm,  bristling  with  weapons, 
in  villainous  shoes  wound  about  with  strips  of 


IN    THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

rags,  appeared  three  Tapedures, —  Cramoisin  the 
mountebank,  Boudgoust  the  waiter,  and  Jam- 
bony  the  crier, —  thrown  together  by  the  strange 
tides  of  the  Terror.  In  the  middle,  Boudgoust 
strode  with  hang-dog  head,  as  though  his  height 
had  overshot  his  strength.  The  shriveled,  fur- 
tive mountebank  clung  to  one  arm,  while  at  the 
other  waddled  the  bloated,  leering  cub  of  the 
gutters.  So  tightly  huddled  were  they  that  they 
seemed  one  unclean  body  with  three  heads  —  an 
incongruous  union  of  malignant  age,  stultified 
manhood,  and  vicious,  insolent  youth. 

Perceiving  Javogues  silent  and  absorbed,  they 
slackened  their  pace,  and  Boudgoust  said  cau- 
tiously : 

"  Cramoisin,  he  's  still  in  bad  humor." 

"  It 's  that  cursed  Dossonville,  my  little  Boud- 
goust. If  it  worries  him,  why  does  n't  he  get  rid 
of  him?" 

"  Javogues 's  the  devil  when  aroused,"  Boud- 
goust continued  apprehensively.  He  turned  to 
the  boy :  "  Jambony,  throttle  that  voice  of  a 
carriage-crier  and  speak  softly.  It  might  be  best 
to  slip  away." 

But  Javogues,  lifting  his  head,  beckoned 
them. 

"  Well,  watch-dogs,  what  luck  ?  " 

Cramoisin  and  Jambony  looked  to  Boudgoust, 
236 


WAITING  FOR   BREAD 

who  turned  his  pockets  inside  out,  showed  the 
flat  of  his  palms,  and  answered : 

"  Nothing." 

"An  unfortunate  day  —  for  all  of  us,"  Ja- 
vogues  said  gloomily,  and  relapsed  into  bitter 
reflections  on  his  encounter  with  Dossonville. 

*'  What  luck  !  "  exclaimed  Cramoisin.  "  We 
escaped  easily.  Suppose  we  eat  something." 

Jambony  opened  his  mouth,  and  the  voice, 
trained  to  rise  above  the  jargon  of  the  street, 
resounded  from  one  end  of  the  street  to  the 
other. 

"Food!" 

The  invariable  bowl  of  soup  and  a  bottle  of 
thin  wine  were  placed  in  front  of  each.  Boud- 
goust,  whose  appetite  was  in  proportion  to  his 
length,  accomplished  his  portion  in  one  swallow, 
and  being  thus  reduced  to  philosophizing,  ex- 
claimed : 

"  All  citoyens  should  be  made  to  eat  together." 

"Nothing  new  there,"  Cramoisin  interjected 
querulously.  "  We  have  the  Fraternal  dinners, 
have  n't  we  ?  " 

"That  amounts  to  nothing,"  Boudgoust  re- 
torted. He  leaned  his  elbows  on  the  table, 
scratching  the  back  of  his  hands  as  he  talked : 
"  But  every  day,  every  meal.  That 's  democracy ! 
Or,  better,  no  citoyen  to  eat  more  than  another ! 

237 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

If  I  saw  any  one  eating  meat  to-night  I  'd  arrest 
him.  All  citoyens  should  share  alike." 

Jambony,  having  now  emptied  his  bowl,  de- 
clared in  his  stentor's  voice : 

"  And  I  am  for  equality  of  dress.  No  distinc- 
tion between  citoyens  on  account  of  dress !  A 
national  costume  —  one  for  the  men  and  one  for 
the  women ! " 

Presently,  while  he  launched  into  the  details 
of  his  scheme,  a  raven,  with  a  croak  and  a  flap 
of  its  wings,  hopped  from  the  gloom  of  the  op- 
posite entrance,  followed  by  the  diminutive  figure 
of  la  Mere  Corniche,  who,  giving  a  nod  of  under- 
standing to  the  four,  installed  herself  on  a  stool 
and  began  to  knit. 

"  There 's  one  who  's  no  Girondin,"  Boudgoust 
grunted. 

"  She  's  a  tiger  since  the  death  of  Marat," 
Jambony  remarked  in  a  thundering  whisper. 
"  She  was  very  devoted.  They  say  —  " 

And  he  proceeded  to  detail  one  of  those  fan- 
tastic tales  which  the  Parisian  playfully  attributed 
to  any  woman,  were  she  eighty  or  eighteen. 

Cramoisin,  having  caressed  the  last  drop  in  his 
bowl,  now  exclaimed : 

"  Jambony,  you  are  tiresome,  you  and  your 
national  costume.  You  go  half-way.  What  we 
must  restore  is  the  primeval  innocence !  "  As  he 
238 


WAITING  FOR   BREAD 

spoke  he  pressed  a  flat  thumb  on  the  table,  while 
from  under  his  eyebrows  shot  the  shrewd  dagger 
glances  of  the  madman.  "  The  primeval  inno- 
cence —  there  only  is  the  truth  !  Nothing  but 
that  can  restore  republican  simplicity.  No  clothes 
at  all !  A  return  to  the  simplicity  of  Adam  and 
Eve  —  the  true,  the  real  republicans  !  There  's 
something  that  would  be  sublime  ! " 

"Aliens,  Cramoisin,  you  have  too  much  van- 
ity ! "  Boudgoust  replied. 

"Yes,  he  wants  to  display  his  beauty,"  put 
in  Jambony,  who  retained  the  spirit  of  raillery 
gathered  at  the  doors  of  the  theater.  "  We  know 
that  trick,  old  fellow." 

Cramoisin  was  beginning  a  furious  answer  when 
Javogues,  turning  impatiently,  demanded  the 
hour. 

"  Close  to  seven." 

"  They  come  later  every  night,"  Javogues 
grumbled.  He  rang  the  table  with  his  fist.  "  Per- 
haps they  think  they  can  hide  their  guilty  faces 
in  the  dusk  ! " 

Presently,  from  the  entrances,  people  with  bas- 
kets began  to  appear,  directing  their  way  toward 
the  Bakery  Gobin,  a  rod  below,  to  take  up  the 
vigil  that  consumed  the  night. 

Those  who  passed  the  Pretre  Pendu  waited 
anxiously  their  welcome  from  the  mouth  of  Ja- 

239 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

vogues,  whose  salutations  varied  according  to  his 
estimate  of  their  patriotism. 

"  Greetings,  patriots." 

"  Greetings,  citoyens." 

"  Greetings." 

To  some  he  simply  nodded  in  return.  Occa- 
sionally he  stiffened  and,  without  recognition, 
fastened  his  scrutiny  on  the  eyes  of  a  new  arrival, 
as  though  to  tear  away  the  mask  and  wrench 
forth  the  secret. 

Marching  purposely  toward  them,  looking 
Javogues  disdainfully  in  countenance,  came 
Goursac.  So  implacable  were  the  glances  the  two 
enemies  exchanged  that  they  seemed  to  clash 
midway  in  the  air.  Arrived  within  ten  feet  of 
the  group,  Goursac  turned  curtly  on  his  heel  and 
departed  toward  the  bakery  without  having  rec- 
ognized them  by  word  or  nod.  The  Tapedures 
cursed;  Javogues,  following  him  with  his  glance, 
muttered: 

"  Sacre !  Girondin,  wait  a  little  longer! " 

Several  women  passed,  among  them  Nicole, 
who  received  a  friendly  greeting  from  Javogues, 
Boudgoust  commenting : 

"Fine  woman  that,  Cramoisin,  for  all  you 
say ! " 

Cramoisin  scowled  for  an  answer,  following  the 
girl  with  a  glance  of  implacable  hatred. 
240 


WAITING  FOR  BREAD 

"  Eh,  yes,"  Jambony  added,  sinking  his  voice. 
"  As  for  me,  if  it  were  n't  for  Javogues  I  'd  not 
keep  her  long  chained  up  to  that  cursed  Bara- 
bant." 

"  Barabant/'  growled  Boudgoust,  "  is  an  indul- 
gent. He  is  forever  talking  of  mercy." 

"  He  who  speaks  of  mercy  in  these  days,"  cried 
Cramoisin,  purposely  raising  his  voice,  "is  in 
league  with  aristocrats.  He  should  be  de- 
nounced." 

Javogues  turned  angrily : 

"  Enough !    Barabant  is  a  patriot.    I  know  it ! " 

Boudgoust,  who  disliked  quarrels,  interrupted : 

"  Hello,  who  's  this  brat  ?  " 

A  girl  of  six  or  seven  was  approaching,  carry- 
ing in  her  arms  a  stool. 

Javogues,  at  once  suspicious,  stopped  her. 

'*  Who  sent  you  out,  my  little  one  ?  " 

"  Papa." 

"  And  who  is  your  father  ?  " 

"  The  wig-maker  there,"  she  said,  showing  the 
shop  with  her  small  finger.  "  He  's  coming  to 
take  my  place  later." 

"  Ah,  your  papa  is  a  good  Royalist." 

The  child,  frightened  by  his  looks,- remained 
twisting  from  side  to  side,  while  Javogues,  soften- 
ing his  voice,  repeated  the  question. 

The  child  shook  her  head. 
16  241 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

"  What  does  he  say  of  us  ?  "  It  was  Boud- 
goust  who  put  the  question. 

"  Don't  know." 

"  But  he  suffers  much  with  this  famine,  does  n't 
he  ?  "  suggested  Cramoisin,  slyly. 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  answered,  the  innocent  face 
brightening.  "  Papa  says  we  suffer  more  now  than 
before." 

Cramoisin,  triumphant  and  smiling,  drew  back; 
the  child  toddled  on. 

"Ah,  Citoyen  Flaquet,"  Javogues  cried  in 
triumph,  "  who  does  n't  dare  pass  us  in  the  day- 
light and  who  regrets  the  royalty,  we  hold  you 
at  last ! " 

Among  the  next  to  leave  No.  38  was  a  girl  of 
sixteen,  who,  in  greeting  Javogues,  faltered  a 
little  in  her  walk.  It  was  Genevieve,  suddenly 
blossomed  into  a  woman.  Her  eyes,  that  for- 
merly were  too  black  and  large  on  her  sallow 
face,  were  now  in  fair  relief  to  her  cheeks,  that 
had  flushed  with  the  glow  of  womanhood.  She 
moved  lightly,  and  even  the  carelessness  of  her 
dress  could  not  conceal  the  full  figure,  erect  and 
flexible.  The  four  men  watched  her  pass  on 
and  take  her  place  in  the  lengthening  line. 

"  The  best  of  the  lot !  "  Cramoisin  said. 

"  She  was  ugly  enough  last  year,"  Boudgoust 
replied. 

242 


WAITING   FOR   BREAD 

"  She  was  not  a  woman  then,"  retorted  the 
other,  who  seized  the  opportunity  to  broach  his 
favorite  theory.  "  Women,  they  're  good  enough 
in  their  places.  They  're  put  here  to  give  men 
to  the  world.  I  believe  in  the  community  of 
women.  No  marriage.  Women  discriminate 
according  to  a  man's  being  old  or  ugly  or  poor. 
All  discrimination  is  unrepublican.  There 
should  be  no  distinctions." 

"  Yes,  my  old  fellow,  but  halt  there,"  Jambony 
said  impudently.  "No  community  of  men." 

"  Why  not  <?  " 

"  You  'd  fall  to  the  lot  of  la  Mere  Corniche." 

Cramoisin  angrily  resented  the  interruption. 
He  passed  to  the  sociological  aspect  of  the  re- 
form, and  declared  that  with  the  Nation  battling 
against  all  Europe  such  a  measure  was  needed 
to  fill  in  the  gaps  of  war.  Other  bottles  were 
brought  and  torches. 

Below  at  the  bakery,  two  torches  disclosed  the 
undulations  of  the  monstrous  queue,  but  the 
faces  and  the  outlines  of  the  figures  were  con- 
founded in  the  night.  Sometimes  a  brief  song 
would  mount  up,  a  few  whispered  communica- 
tions could  be  heard,  and  the  steady  snoring  of  a 
sleeper. 

From  there,  in  the  narrow  circle  of  light  un- 
der the  figure  of  the  priest,  which  swung  in 

243 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

grotesque  outlines,  the  four  Tapedures  could  be 
seen,  drinking  and  discussing.  At  times  their 
voices,  impassioned  and  drunken,  reached  the 
line,  the  high  pitch  of  Cramoisin  crying: 
"  Primeval  innocence !  community  of  women ! " 
or  the  bellow  of  Javogues,  "There  is  no  God!" 
as  the  four,  without  listening  to  one  another, 
debated  furiously  their  sublime  ideas. 

From  time  to  time  others  arrived  through  the 
darkness,  relieving  those  in  line.  Toward  mid- 
night Barabant  replaced  Nicole.  Several  of  the 
new  arrivals  were  fresh  from  cabarets;  many  of 
those  whom  no  one  relieved  began  in  drunken 
boisterousness  to  scream  upon  the  night  ribald 
songs  and  jests,  foul  anathemas  of  the  party  in 
disfavor. 

The  noise  of  kisses  and  tipsy  laughter  became 
frequent.  The  women  and  children,  accustomed 
to  the  scene,  retired  under  shawls  and  sought  to 
efface  themselves  against  the  chilly  walls.  Some 
women,  more  vicious  than  their  mates,  joined  in 
the  drunken  carnival,  which  toward  three  o'clock, 
when  the  torches  dropped  back  into  the  night, 
knew  no  bounds.  And  all  the  while,  amid  this 
licentiousness,  muffled  or  in  brazen  outcry,  the 
line  asleep  or  cringing,  whispering  or  ribald, 
waited  stolidly  for  the  dawn. 

Shortly  after  three,  Javogues  and  his  body- 
244 


WAITING   FOR   BREAD 

guard  quitted  the  cabaret  to  make  the  rounds.  A 
single  torch  held  aloft  by  Boudgoust  lit  up  the 
huddled  queue.  They  passed  down  the  line,  Jam- 
bony  and  Cramoisin  embracing  the  women,  Ja- 
vogues  compelling  all  to  cry  "Vive  la  Nation!" 
and  "  A  bas  les  Indulgents ! "  As  luck  would  have 
it,  Cramoisin  perceived  the  face  of  Genevieve, 
which,  in  her  curiosity,  she  momentarily  displayed. 

The  drunkard  flung  himself  forward  and  seized 
her  in  his  arms.  She  defended  herself  furiously, 
averting  her  face,  resisting  all  his  efforts  to  drag 
her  into  the  street;  until  Cramoisin,  getting  his 
arm  around  her  waist,  wrenched  her  forth  scream- 
ing in  her  terror : 

"  Citoyen  Javogues,  Citoyen  Javogues,  protect 
me  !  Don't  let  him  take  me,  Citoyen  Javogues ! " 

Javogues,  recognizing  the  voice,  ran  up. 

*'  Who  've  you  got  there  *?  " 

"  Don't  you  see  I  've  got  a  woman  ?  "  Cramoi- 
sin said  surlily.  He  added  an  obscenity  that 
caused  the  girl,  in  despair,  to  exclaim : 

"  Oh,  Citoyen  Javogues,  save  me,  save  me ! " 

"  None  of  that,"  Javogues  cried  angrily.  "  Let 
her  go." 

As  the  drunken  Cramoisin  started  to  protest, 
with  a  blow  of  his  fist  he  knocked  him  down. 
Genevieve,  carried  down  in  the  fall,  flung  herself 
at  the  feet  of  Javogues,  grasping  his  knees. 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"Thanks,  thanks,"  she  cried  hysterically. 
"  Citoyen,  you  are  good,  you  are  kind  ! " 

Then  fearing  to  become  too  prominent,  she 
hurried  to  her  place,  enveloping  her  head  with 
a  shawl  and  crouching  back  into  the  friendly 
obscurity. 

Cramoisin,  whimpering,  disappeared;  Ja- 
vogues,  Boudgoust,  and  Jambony  reeled  away. 
Fatigue  stilled  even  the  noisiest.  The  night  was 
achieved  in  sleep. 

Toward  six  the  line  roused  itself,  as  two  in- 
spectors of  the  municipality  arrived  to  preside 
over  the  distribution  of  the  bread.  The  doors 
were  opened  and  the  frantic  rush  began,  those  in 
the  rear  crowding  forward  with  frenzied  inqui- 
ries, which  changed  into  the  familiar  shrieks  of 
despair  when  the  doors  were  closed  with  a  third 
of  the  line  unserved. 

Genevi£ve,  who  had  received  her  maximum  of 
bread  among  the  last,  avoided  the  outstretched 
hands  of  the  unsuccessful  and  escaped  up  the 
street,  to  where  la  Mere  Corniche,  at  her  post, 
exacted  a  tithe  from  each  lodger.  Dropping  her 
tribute  in  the  basket,  she  was  hastening  on  when 
the  concierge  retained  her  with  the  cry : 

"  The  Citoyen  Javogues  wants  you." 

Thinking  that  it  was  to  fetch  water  from  the 
Seine,  the  girl  sought  her  bucket  and  hastened 
246 


WAITING   FOR   BREAD 

to  the  room  of  the  Marseillais.  At  the  sight  of 
the  bucket,  Javogues  frowned  and  asked : 

"  What  are  you  doing  with  that? " 

"  Don't  you  want  me  to  fetch  water  ?  " 

"No." 

"Ah." 

"  Leave  the  bucket  in  the  corner." 

Genevieve  obeyed.  Javogues  shut  the  door, 
returned,  and  frowned  again  as  he  saw  that  she 
was  trembling. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  he  said  roughly. 
"  Why  do  you  tremble  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  me  ?  "  he  said,  advancing. 

"  Oh,  no." 

"  Then  what  is  it  ?  " 

"I  'mglad  — that 'sail." 

"  True  ?  " 

All  at  once  the  girl,  flinging  herself  at  his  feet, 
caught  his  hands  and  cried  : 

"  I  love  you,  I  love  you,  I  love  you ! " 

"What,  me  ! "  Javogues  cried,  amazed,  retreat- 
ing a  step.  "  You  love  me  !  " 

"  I  adore  you.  I  think  of  nothing  but  you. 
You  are  my  god  ! " 

"  There  is  no  God ! " 

"  Yes,  when  one  loves." 

"Then  you  love  me  —  it  's  true?"  he  said, 

247 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

raising  her  to  her  feet.     "Why  do  you  love 
me?" 

"Why?"  She  drew  a  long  breath.  "You 
are  so  big,  so  heroic ! " 

Javogues  fell  back  into  a  chair,  repeating : 
"  Extraordinary !     I  don't  understand." 
She  threw  herself  into  his  arms  with  the  move- 
ment of  a  child,  and,  without  seeking  to  conceal 
her  thoughts,  repeated  a  hundred  caresses  while 
he  continued  to  mumble  stupidly : 
"  Extraordinary !     Extraordinary ! " 
Finally  her  emotion  penetrated  him.    He  took 
her  in  his  hands  and  held  her  from  him,  she  col- 
oring with  pleasure  at  this  show  of  force,  which 
came  to  her  as  a  caress. 

Suddenly  a  tremor  ran  through  his  immense 
body,  an  upheaval  out  of  which  came  something 
gentle  and  softened.  He  continued  to  hold  her 
before  him,  without  shifting  the  glance  that 
plunged  into  her  eyes,  while  the  girl,  turning  in 
his  grasp,  repeated,  "  Let  me  go ! "  for,  child  that 
she  was,  she  divined  what  was  passing  in  him. 

"But  why,"  he  repeated  stupidly — "why  do 
you  love  me?  I  don't  understand.  No  other 
woman  ever  has." 

"Because  you  are  so  heroic.     All  the  others 
understand  nothing  of  poverty  and  sorrow.     You 
—  you  understand.     You  give  hope  to  such  as 
248 


WAITING   FOR   BREAD 

I.  When  I  hear  you  speak  those  sublime 
thoughts,  my  heart  swells.  You  too  have  suf- 
fered ;  you  know  the  abyss."  She  added,  not 
without  elation :  "  I  loved  you  from  the  first  day. 
I  never  thought  you  'd  notice  me." 

"It  's  true  —  really  true,  then — what  you  say 
to  me  ?  " 

For  all  answer  she  looked  at  him  and  smiled. 

"  It  's  curious.  I  don't  understand  it,"  he  said 
at  last.  "  But  I  believe  I  'm  beginning  to  love 
you." 

Then,  without  quite  knowing  why,  she  lowered 
her  eyes. 


249 


IV 

SIMON    LAJOIE 

THE  inhabitants  of  the  Rue  Maugout,  as- 
tounded by  the  sight  of  Genevieve  arm 
in  arm  with  the  overshadowing  Javogues,  had 
not  recovered  from  the  shock  of  this  evidence  of 
human  feeling  in  their  tyrant  when  the  next  day 
brought  them  a  further  surprise. 

Toward  five  in  the  afternoon  Dossonville,  with 
the  evident  purpose  of  impressing  his  enemies  by 
a  new  accession  of  strength,  made  his  appearance, 
with  a  body-guard  of  two.  The  onlookers,  en- 
joying the  amazement  of  the  Marseillais,  were 
yet  themselves  astonished  and  perplexed  at  the 
incongruity  of  the  new  reinforcement. 

One,  short  and  contracted,  gave  the  impression 
that  by  some  mysterious  settling  his  head  had 
shrunk  on  his  shoulders,  his  shoulders  had  moved 
toward  his  waist,  and  by  this  gradual  process  his 
whole  body  had  been  telescoped  into  his  legs.  A 
huge,  flattened  nose,  or  rather  beak,  imposed  itself 
upon  the  yellowish,  parched  face  and  empty 
250 


SIMON   LAJOIE 

cheeks,  while  from  two  slits  under  the  overhang- 
ing brows,  the  half-hidden  eyes,  without  deviat- 
ing from  their  forward  direction,  absorbed  the 
outer  world. 

His  companion,  in  contrast  to  the  dragging 
gait  of  his  fellow,  moved  in  short  steps,  picking 
up  his  feet.  The  sharp  nose,  set  as  close  as  is 
possible  to  the  perpendicular,  pointed  the  way  to 
the  head,  which,  set  forward  on  the  craning  neck, 
seemed  in  turn  to  be  running  ahead  of  the  frail 
body. 

Dossonville,  with  his  loose  amble  and  impor- 
tant tilt  of  head,  gave  the  cabaret  a  "Salut!"  and 
continued  twirling  in  his  hand  for  his  only 
weapon  an  ivory  baton  a  scant  two  feet  in  length. 
Behind  him  the  watch-dogs  paused,  one  grim, 
taciturn,  and  furtive,  the  other  loquacious,  florid 
of  gesture,  and  loud,  while,  as  a  cur  at  the  ap- 
proach of  a  strange  dog  draws  himself  up  snarl- 
ing and  apprehensive,  Javogues  and  the  three 
half  started  from  their  chairs. 

Satisfied  with  the  discomfiture  of  the  Terrorists, 
Dossonville  led  his  followers  to  the  Place  de  la  Re- 
volution, where  he  found  the  execution  over  and 
the  crowd,  with  a  scattering  hand-clap,  dispersing. 

On  the  terraces  of  the  Tuileries  a  few  specta- 
tors still  lingered  curiously,  looking  down  on  the 
scaffold  that  violently  interrupted  the  peaceful 
251 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

vista  of  the  woods  beyond.  Threading  his  way 
through  the  widening  network  of  women,  sol- 
diers, spies,  muscadins,  and  laborers,  Dossonville 
perceived  Louison,  who,  having  at  last  quitted 
the  environment  of  the  scaffold,  was  returning 
toward  the  Cabaret  de  la  Guillotine  to  dispose  of 
her  cockades. 

"  Well,  Louison,"  he  cried,  "  you  have  a  bored 
air!  It  was  stupid  this  afternoon,  then*?  The 
show  did  hot  interest  ?  " 

"  Nothing  but  a  priest  to-day —  all  priests  die 
in  the  same  way,"  she  answered.  "  However, 
yesterday  it  was  better.  They  guillotined  twin 
brothers.  That  was  something  out  of  the  ordi- 
nary." She  added  thoughtfully :  "  It 's  curious 
how  alike  men  are  on  the  scaffold." 

All  at  once  she  perceived  the  two  who  had 
halted  obediently  at  a  distance  of  twenty  paces. 
Dossonville,  when  her  glance  had  traveled  from 
them  to  him,  and  back  and  forth,  in  amazement 
and  inquiry,  opened  his  wide  mouth  and  said 
with  pride,  indicating  them  with  a  flourish  : 

"Are  n't  they  darlings,  though *?  My  assistants, 
my  lambs,  my  watch-dogs  ! " 

Louison,  seized  with  a  sudden,  mad  laughter, 
found  a  moment  to  say : 

"  Where,  please,  did  you  find  such  a  pair  of 
cutthroats  ?  " 

252 


SIMON   LAJOIE 

"  From  the  galleys." 

"  And  you  trust  them  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  I  'd  trust  an  honest  man  ? " 
Dossonville  exclaimed,  with  a  laugh  that  left  the 
girl  in  doubt  as  to  his  seriousness.  "  What  is 
an  honest  man  *?  A  man  who  has  not  been  suf- 
ficiently tempted.  Give  me  the  rogue  every 
time.  Depend  on  no  man  until  he  is  a  rogue — 
a  rogue  you  hold,  by  his  past.  With  an  hon- 
est man  you  are  at  the  mercy  of  his  future." 
He  again  designated  his  assistants.  "  A  word 
from  me  would  send  them  to  the  guillotine. 
That  is  the  only  way  to  insure  tranquillity." 

"  That  's  a  new  theory,"  Louison  exclaimed, 
much  amused.  "And  there  is  sense  in  it. 
What  do  you  call  them,  your  trusty  rogues  ?  " 

"  You  see  the  short  one  with  the  borrowed 
legs  ?  "  Dossonville  answered  proudly.  "  I  call 
him  Le  Corbeau,  from  his  beak  and  blinking 
eyes.  I  picked  him  up  in  the  Cour  des  Mir- 
acles, ex-beggar,  ex-cripple,  ex-thief,  hidden  in  a 
cellar.  I  offered  him  protection  from  arrest  in 
return  for  services.  He  accepted ;  I  supplied  a 
coat  and  a  hat,  and  there  he  is. 

"  The  other  wha  stands  there  shaking  in  the 
wind  is  Sans-Chagrin,  ex-priest,  recanted  and 
reformed.  On  the  subject  of  our  bargain  I  say 
nothing,  only  that  I  dispose  of  his  neck  as  easily 

253 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

as  mine."  Dismissing  them  by  a  signal,  he 
took  Louison's  arm.  "  Now  for  us.  What  do 
you  say  to  a  drop  of  something  in  the  Rue  de 
Bourgogne  ?  " 

"  I  say,  on  to  the  Rue  de  Bourgogne  !  " 

At  the  scaffold  they  made  a  detour  to  escape 
the  contact  of  blood,  which  made  the  place 
abhorrent  and  carried  on  the  shoes  of  those  who 
passed  in  front  of  the  scaffold  the  red  trail  for 
blocks  about. 

Louison,  as  they  went,  was  crying  her  cock- 
ades, when  suddenly  they  were  aware  of  a  shrink- 
ing and  a  widening  in  the  crowd,  and  looking  up, 
perceived  Sanson,  the  executioner,  and  his  sons 
advancing,  impassive  to  all  demonstrations. 
Seized  with  a  mad  desire,  the  girl  stepped 
toward  them,  crying : 

"A  cockade,  Citoyen  Sanson,  a  red  cockade  !" 

The  next  moment  Dossonville  had  jerked  her 
away. 

"  Mordieu,  Louison!  "  he  cried  angrily.  "  Why 
did  you  do  that  *?  " 

"Why  not1?"  she  said,  laughing.  "The 
Revolution  has  abolished  prejudices ! " 

"  It  cannot  change  human  nature,"  he  retorted. 
"You  can  call  him  Executor  of  Public  Judg- 
ments, Avenger  of  the  Nation,  he  is  always  the 
executioner."  He  added  frankly,  "  Louison,  ma 

254 


SIMON   LAJOIE 

belle,  there  are  really  moments  when  you  are 
not  human.  At  an  execution  you  are  like 
granite ! " 

"  Very  well,  do  not  notice  me." 

"  That  's  easy  to  say,"  he  grumbled.  "  Be- 
sides, I  'm  curious." 

"  Indeed." 

"  Barabant  has  been  telling  me  about  that  ex- 
traordinary mother  of  yours." 

"  Barabant  *?  "  Louison  said  uneasily.  "  He 
does  n't  like  me." 

"  I  like  nothing  so  well  as  a  mystery,"  Dos- 
sonville  continued  enthusiastically.  "  I  have 
three  plans  already  to  make  her  speak." 

"Five  would  do  no  good." 

"Why  not?" 

"  She  has  left  for  the  provinces." 

"Diable!" 

"Besides,  I  do  not  care  to  be  mysterious," 
she  said  impatiently,  "and  I  do  not  like  to  be 
thought  strange." 

"  Speak  no  more  of  it,"  said  Dossonville, 
though  inwardly  relinquishing  nothing  of  his 
purpose.  "  In  future  I  '11  consider  you  only  as  a 
commonplace  woman." 

Louison  regarded  him  maliciously. 

"  Determine  that  for  yourself." 

"  Satane"  de  femme  ! "  he  exclaimed.    "  I  '11  be 

255 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

very  careful  what  I  determine.  Louison,  you 
are  not  a  woman  who  can  be  loved  comfortably. 
I  tell  it  to  you  frankly.  The  place  seems  good ; 
let  us  sit  down." 

Several  nights  later,  Dossonville,  resting  on  his 
rounds,  was  seated  at  a  table  in  front  of  the 
Cafe  de  Valmy,  in  the  Quartier  des  Bonnes 
Nouvelles.  The  bells  had  announced  the  mid- 
night; from  the  intersections  of  the  square  the 
streets  yawned  to  him  out  of  the  impenetrable 
darkness. 

For  once  Dossonville  abandoned  himself  to 
reverie — a  mood  evoked  by  the  memory  of  Loui- 
son. Since  his  encounter,  the  mystery  of  her 
birth  had  continually  teased  his  imagination. 
The  terror  of  la  Mere  Baudrier  when  Louison 
had  announced  the  discovery  of  her  father,  and 
again  the  mother's  strange  rendezvous  in  the 
Square  de  la  Bastille,  suggested  such  an  unusual 
solution,  without  offering  a  clue,  that  his  mind 
returned  again  and  again  to  the  problem. 

In  another  corner,  Sans-Chagrin,  late  in  his 
cups,  disputed  with  the  host  upon  the  value  of 
religion,  while  Le  Corbeau,  who  by  his  silence 
gained  the  majority  of  the  decanter,  pretended 
indifference  to  the  discussion. 

"  I  know  what  I  say,"  Sans-Chagrin  was  de- 

256 


SIMON   LAJOIE 

claiming.     "  Religion  is  a  farce  and  the  Assem- 
bly will  do  well  to  abolish  it!" 

"  That  is  not  so  certain,"  objected  the  listener. 

"  It  will  come." 

"Perhaps—" 

"  Religion  will  be  abolished !  I  know  what 
I  'm  saying.  I  was  a  priest  myself." 

"  Come,  now ! " 

"True.  They  expelled  me.  And  why?  Why? 
Tell  me  that." 

"  Out  with  it." 

"  For  instituting  reforms.    Religion  is  a  farce !" 

A  woman,  scenting  a  story,  issued  from  the 
door,  and  leaning  on  the  shoulder  of  her  husband, 
said  : 

"  Come,  Citoyen  Sans-Chagrin,  tell  us  of  that." 

"  I  reformed  the  confessional,"  Sans-Chagrin 
began  querulously.  "  Aye,  and  it  needed  it,  too. 
Every  day  and  every  hour  I  had  to  be  disturbed 
for  a  confession.  I  said  to  myself,  if  there  's  so 
much  wickedness,  it  's  because  the  confessional 
is  n't  rigid  enough.  That  's  logical,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  And  what  did  you  do  *?  " 

"  Only  this.  I  announced  that,  in  future,  to 
avert  confusion  and  to  better  impress  the  peni- 
tent with  his  crime,  I  would  hear  confessions  thus: 

"On  Monday,  all  the  liars. 

"  On  Tuesday,  all  the  misers. 
257 


IN   THE   NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

"  On  Wednesday,  all  the  slanderers. 

"  On  Thursday,  all  the  thieves. 

"  On  Friday,  all  the  libertines. 

"  On  Saturday,  all  women  who  lead  bad  lives." 

His  listeners  burst  out  laughing,  while  the 
woman  said,  "  And  no  one  came  *?  " 

"  No  one  came  ! "  Sans-Chagrin  repeated  indig- 
nantly. "  No  one  came !  And  the  Church,  in- 
stead of  adopting  the  reform,  expelled  me.  They 
said  I  wanted  to  be  rid  of  confessions.  What  a 
farce,  my  friends,  what  a  mockery  ! "  He  spread 
out  his  arms  in  appeal  to  their  judgment,  slapped 
his  chest  three  times,  and  fell  back  loosely  in  his 
chair,  exclaiming,  "  Oh,  oh,  oh !  " 

Dossonville,  who  had  lent  a  moment's  amused 
attention  to  this  farcical  recital,  rose  and  returned 
to  the  march,  a  manceuver  which  caused  Sans- 
Chagrin  and  Le  Corbeau  to  choke  in  their  haste 
to  empty  the  decanter. 

They  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  when 
Dossonville's  ear  caught  the  slight  rasp  of  a  win- 
dow opening  overhead.  Flatteninghimself  against 
the  wall,  he  covered  his  lantern  with  his  cloak, 
with  a  whispered  caution  to  his  followers  as  the 
window  continued  to  give  forth  its  low  complaint. 
There  was  a  minute's  silence,  and  then  it  was 
drawn  shut,  and  the  slight  click  of  a  bolt  was 
heard. 

258 


SIMON   LAJOIE 

Hearing  nothing  further,  Dossonville  finally 
resumed  his  walk,  but  at  the  next  corner  some 
one  muffled  in  a  cloak  fell  into  his  arms. 

The  man,  with  a  dozen  pardons,  sought  to 
make  a  detour,  but  Dossonville's  long  arm,  shoot- 
ing out,  grasped  his  shoulder. 

"Not  so  fast,  citoyen.  There  's  a  little  for- 
mality we  must  not  forget.  Name  and  errand  ?  " 

The  stranger,  perceiving  him  neither  to  be 
surrounded  with  pistols  and  knives  nor  to  have  a 
very  threatening  air,  answered : 

"Citoyen  Clappier,  Section  des  Bonnes  Nou- 
velles.  I  am  hurrying  to  seek  a  doctor." 

"  Show  your  card  of  citizenship,  and  pass." 

"  The  devil ! "  the  man  exclaimed,  after  a  show 
of  searching  in  his  pockets.  "  I  forgot  to  take  it 
out  of  the  coat  I  wore  this  morning." 

"  Really,  citoyen,  you  are  in  bad  luck,"  Dos- 
sonville replied.  "  I  shall  be  forced  to  accom- 
pany you."  He  summoned  Sans-Chagrin  and 
Le  Corbeau  out  of  the  shadow,  and  gave  him 
into  their  charge,  with  a  "  Lead  the  way ! "  Then 
he  dropped  behind,  murmuring,  "Provided  one 
does  not  enter  that  doctor's  by  the  window." 

They  journeyed  silently  for  several  minutes, 
until  suddenly  the  three  ahead  halted,  and  Sans- 
Chagrin,  returning,  said : 

"  The  citoyen  wishes  to  speak  with  you." 
259 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

Dossonville,  who  had  expected  this  denoue- 
ment, had  the  prisoner  brought  to  him. 

"  Well,  citoyen,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"Citoyen,  I  ask  a  moment's  private  conver- 
sation." 

"  With  me  ?  " 

"  With  you  alone." 

"  It  is  important,  then?" 

"  Very." 

"Good!" 

Perceiving  that  their  walk  had  brought  them 
near  to  their  starting-point,  Dossonville  led  the 
way  to  the  Cafe  de  Valmy,  passing  through 
which,  he  entered  a  small  room,  giving  orders  to 
his  body-guard  to  remain  without.  Then  shutting 
the  door,  he  straddled  a  chair,  rested  his  arms  on 
the  back,  and  with  a  smile  awaited  the  opening. 

"Citoyen  Dossonville — "  the  man  began. 

"  What !     You  know  me  ?  " 

"  For  a  long  time." 

"  Indeed ! "  Dossonville  exclaimed,  astounded 
and  nonplussed  by  this  knowledge. 

"  Citoyen  Dossonville,"  the  man  continued,  "  I 
ask  of  you  one  promise.  If  I  convince  you  of 
my  patriotism  and  my  citizenship,  will  you  guard 
my  secret  *?  I  ask  you  as  a  man  of  honor." 

Dossonville  inclined  his  head. 

"  Agreed.  I  promise  to  keep  the  secret,  on 
260 


SIMON   LAJOIE 

condition  that  you  convince  me  of  your  patriot- 
ism —  that  is,  by  showing  me  your  true  card  of 
citizenship." 

"  That  will  not  be  necessary." 

Throwing  back  his  cloak,  he  removed  a  wig 
and  mustaches,  discovering  to  Dossonville  the 
features  of  Sanson,  the  executioner. 

"  Do  you  recognize  me  *? " 

At  this  sinister  figure,  Dossonville  recoiled 
with  a  movement  beyond  his  control,  but  recov- 
ering, he  exclaimed: 

"  Pardon." 

"  It  is  nothing,"  Sanson  answered  flatly.  "  I 
am  used  to  it." 

"Pardon.  What  surprises  me  is  this,"  said 
Dossonville,  hiding  his  own  emotion.  "  That 
you  who  have  been  imprisoned  for  suspected 
Royalist  interests  should  expose  yourself  to  sus- 
picion for  any  cause." 

"  Have  you  not  guessed  my  errand  ? "  San- 
son said,  with  a  frown. 

"  Until  you  disclosed  your  identity,  yes," 
Dossonville  retorted  sharply.  "  But  such  adven- 
tures do  not  necessitate  a  disguise  at  one  o'clock 
in  the  night.  Citoyen  Sanson,  had  I  met  you 
otherwise,  I  should  have  nothing  to  say;  but 
disguised  and  under  a  false  name  is  different.  I 
shall  have  to  report  it." 

261 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

Sanson  reseated  himself. 

"For  thirty  years  I  have  assumed  disguises 
and  another  name.  Do  you  need  to  be  told  the 
reason?  You  yourself  gave  it  but  a  moment 
ago,"  —  he  paused,  —  "  when  you  recoiled." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  Dossonville  said  coldly, 
resolved  to  push  him  to  the  end.  "  Explain  fully. 
If  I  am  to  risk  myself  thus,  I  must  know  all." 

"What  you  cannot  understand — you  cannot 
understand ! "  Sanson  broke  out  irritably,  while 
his  eyes  sought  the  face  of  his  captor,  doubting 
the  sincerity  of  the  objection.  The  movement 
of  anger  passed;  recognizing  the  peril  of  his 
position,  he  extended  his  hand  and  began  in  a 
flat,  monotonous  voice : 

"  Citoyen  Dossonville,  it  is  disagreeable,  but  I 
cannot  make  conditions.  Citoyen,  I  need  not 
tell  you  that  we  have  always  lived  apart  from 
society.  As  far  back  as  we  know,  every  male 
of  our  family,  from  father  to  son,  has  been  of  the 
same  profession.  All  others  are  barred  to  us. 
Three  have  tried  to  bury  themselves  in  the 
outer  world.  They  were  driven  back.  Every 
woman  has  married  an  executioner,  every  man  a 
daughter  of  one.  The  office  I  hold  was  given 
Charles  Sanson  in  the  year  1688.  My  grand- 
father, my  father,  and  myself  have  inherited  it. 
It  will  descend  from  son  to  son,  whether  King  or 
262 


SIMON   LAJOIE 

Republic  succeeds.     Nothing  will  ever  change 
that ! " 

He  paused  a  moment  in  distaste  before  con- 
tinuing : 

"When  we  appear  in  public,  a  space  is  opened 
to  us.  We  pass  in  any  crowd  without  touching 
a  shoulder.  The  poor,  to  whom  we  give  alms, 
recoil  before  our  touch.  The  woman  who  would 
speak  to  us  would  be  cast  out,  as  a  pariah.  But 
no  woman,  recognizing  us,  would  wish  to  speak 
to  us.  We  had  hoped  the  Revolution  would 
free  us  from  the  universal  prejudice — vain  hope!  " 
Then,  as  though  he  had  said  enough,  he  broke 
off  acridly :  "  And  yet  you  cannot  understand 
why  I  disguise  myself?  " 

Dossonville,  lost  in  the  strange  vista  which  the 
recital  had  opened  to  his  imagination,  did  not  at 
once  reply. 

"  And  you  keep  the  secret  from  every  one  *?  " 
he  asked  at  last. 

Sanson,  perceiving  the  question  was  one  of 
personal  curiosity,  replied  curtly : 

"  I  have  said  that  no  woman  knowing  us  has 
ever  spoken  to  us.  I  should  have  said,  except 
one."  He  smiled,  if  the  curling  of  his  lips  could 
be  called  a  smile.  "A  bouquetiere  who  was 
with  you  one  day  on  the  Place  de  la  Revolu- 
tion." 

263 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"The  story  is  on  your  word  alone,"  Dosson- 
ville  said,  irritated  by  this  allusion.  "  It  lacks 
evidence." 

"  Then  you  do  not  remember  me  ?  "  Sanson 
said. 

Dossonville,  startled  at  the  turn,  for  a  moment 
lost  his  self-possession  as  he  strove  to  penetrate 
the  allusion. 

"  Citoyen  Dossonville,  can  you  recall  the  Cafe 
Procope  about  twenty  years  ago,  and  a  certain 
Simon  Lajoie  who  sometimes  played  a  game  of 
checkers  with  you  in  the  evening,  and  who  in- 
spired you  with  a  great  deal  of  curiosity  *?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  Dossonville  replied,  staring  at  him 
in  perplexity. 

"  Do  you  remember  that  his  visits  ceased  the 
day  your  interest  prompted  you  to  follow  him 
from  the  cafe  ?  " 

"  What !  "  Dossonville  cried,  rising,  and  ex- 
tending his  hand  in  question.  "  It  was  —  ?  " 

"  It  was  I." 

"  Tonnerre  de  Dieu ! " 

And  falling  back,  he  stared  in  empty,  stupid 
amazement. 

"Are  you  convinced  ?  " 

"  I  am." 

"  I  hold  your  promise  ?  " 

"Yes." 

264 


SIMON   LAJOIE 

Sanson  readjusted  his  disguise,  while  Dosson- 
ville  sought  some  pretext  to  retain  him  and  make 
him  talk. 

"  Citoyen,  one  question." 

"  Well,  what  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  know,"  Dossonville  said, 
"  does  the  popular  hatred  affect  you  *?  " 

Sanson  frowned,  hesitated,  and  then  answered 
in  two  words  eloquent  with  meaning : 

"  Not  now." 

Then,  without  offering  his  hand,  he  turned, 
saying  peremptorily : 

"Adieu ! " 

Sans-Chagrin  and  Le  Corbeau,  who  would  not 
have  allowed  the  devil  himself  to  pass  without 
an  order,  brought  him  back.  Then  Dossonville, 
springing  to  his  feet,  cried  : 

"  Set  the  Citoyen  Clappier  free  !  The  Citoyen 
Clappier  is  an  industrious  patriot ! " 


265 


CRAMOISIN    PLOTS    AGAINST    NICOLE 

/^RAMOISIN,  since  the  day  of  his  humilia- 
V^  tion  before  Genevieve,  had  vented  his 
spite  on  Barabant,  seeking  thus  his  vengeance 
on  Nicole.  Several  times,  in  measure  as  the 
trial  of  the  Girondins  neared  its  end  and  it 
became  evident  that  their  condemnation  was 
inevitable,  he  had  sounded  Javogues  on  the 
score  of  Barabant,  only  to  be  repulsed  with  de- 
cided negatives.  But  each  defeat,  by  feeding 
fuel  to  his  hatred,  only  increased  his  determina- 
tion. Convinced,  at  length,  that  nothing  could 
be  accomplished  for  the  present  through  Ja- 
vogues, he  had  recourse  to  la  Mere  Corniche, 
hoping  to  find  in  her  an  ally. 

The  shrewd  little  woman  was  not  long  in 
perceiving  his  intention.  So  having  sufficiently 
enjoyed  his  timid  skirmishes,  she  summoned  him 
to  her  early  one  morning,  after  the  distribution 
of  bread,  and  said  point-blank: 
266 


CRAMOISIN  PLOTS  AGAINST  NICOLE 

"  Out  with  it.  What  do  you  want  to  say  to 
me?" 

The  face  of  Cramoisin  artfully  showed  surprise. 

"Come,  old  fellow,  let  us  understand  each 
other.  You  hate  Barabant,  eh  *?  " 

"  Barabant  is  a  Girondin,"  Cramoisin  ven- 
tured, and  then,  deceived  by  her  mood,  he 
plunged  on:  "He  is  a  Moderate,  a  contre-Revo- 
lutionnaire.  He  is  against  Robespierre  and  the 
Jacobins." 

"Not  a  bit,"  la  Mere  Corniche  interrupted, 
having  now  entrapped  him.  "  He  is  a  follower 
of  the  great  Marat ! " 

"  Who  are  you  telling  that  to ! "  Cramoisin 
cried  contemptuously. 

"Hark,  old  fellow,  no  airs  with  me,"  the 
concierge  retorted  sharply.  "  The  Citoyen  Bara- 
bant came  here  with  a  letter  to  Marat.  I  saw  it. 
As  for  you,  I  know  what  you  're  after,  my  fine 
patriot, —  your  eyes  are  on  the  girl !  " 

Cramoisin,  now  thoroughly  alarmed,  sought 
only  to  retreat. 

"  Never  in  the  world,"  he  cried  indignantly. 
"Come,  mother,  you  must  n't  wrong  a  fellow- 
patriot.  I  bear  no  hatred  to  Barabant.  I  thought 
him  a  Girondin ;  he  is  always  with  that  cursed 
Goursac.  But  if  you  say  he  's  not,  I  'm  glad  to 
hear  it." 

267 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"  Oui  da,  of  course  you  are  !  You  look  it," 
she  retorted  scornfully.  "  Come,  get  out  of  my 
way;  leave  me  in  peace,  old  hypocrite.  You 
don't  fool  me  an  instant.  Be  off!" 

Cramoisin  escaped  to  the  cabaret;  la  Mere 
Corniche,  mumbling  to  herself,  settled  back  in 
her  chair ;  as  the  distribution  of  bread  ended,  the 
lodgers  issued  forth  with  buckets,  to  get  water 
from  the  Seine.  Resolved  to  put  Barabant  on 
his  guard,  she  had  stopped  him,  when,  to  her  de- 
light, she  perceived  Cramoisin  disappearing  into 
the  cabaret  in  such  pitiful  fright  that  she  made 
a  pretext  and  allowed  Barabant  to  depart,  re- 
solved to  prolong  for  a  few  days  the  agony  of 
the  terrified  bully. 

She  began  the  round  of  inspection  which,  at 
the  expense  of  her  strength,  she  never  failed  to 
accomplish  each  morning.  She  passed  through 
the  empty  rooms,  scenting  and  prying,  fumbling 
among  papers  and  garments,  viewing  one  room 
with  a  glance,  ransacking  another  for  the  taint  of 
aristocracy  or  the  earmarks  of  a  traitor. 

Arrived  on  Barabant's  landing,  she  made  a 
satisfied,  careless  survey  of  the  room,  entering  to 
rest  from  her  labors.  On  a  chair,  in  a  state  of 
mending,  was  the  blue  redingote  the  young  fel- 
low had  worn  on  his  arrival.  More  from  habit 
than  from  suspicion,  she  ran  her  fingers  through 
268 


CRAMOISIN  PLOTS  AGAINST  NICOLE 

the  pockets,  and  drew  out  the  paper  they  en- 
countered. It  was  the  envelop  addressed  to 
Jean  Paul  Marat. 

She  regarded  it  stupidly,  contracting  her 
brows,  seeking  an  explanation,  before,  with  a  cry, 
she  tore  it  open.  A  sheet,  empty  and  white, 
slipped  to  the  floor.  La  Mere  Corniche,  over- 
come by  the  evidence  of  the  duplicity,  fell  back 
against  the  wall. 

It  was  five  minutes  before  she  could  realize 
how  she  had  been  duped.  Then  from  the  miser, 
and  the  devotee  of  Marat,  a  long  howl  of  rage 
broke  forth,  and  clutching  the  letter,  she  fell  from 
the  landing,  rather  than  descended  the  stairs, 
gained  her  room,  and  abandoned  herself  to  the 
transports  of  her  rage. 

A  half-hour  later  she  hobbled  forth,  white  but 
controlled,  to  the  entrance,  where,  perceiving 
Cramoisin,  she  cried  with  a  furious  gesture : 

"  Come  here." 

At  this  angry  summons  the  Terrorist  would 
have  slunk  away  had  not  la  Mere  Corniche  cut 
off  his  escape,  crying : 

"Cramoisin,  idiot,  imbecile,  come  here!" 

She  seized  him,  trembling  at  her  tone,  and 
impelled  him  into  the  entrance,  exclaiming : 

"  You  hate  Barabant  ?  Answer  me,  you  hate 
him!" 

269 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"I  swear  — "  he  began,  when  she  cut  him 
short :  "  Fool,  I  despise  him  !  Do  you  hear 
me  *?  I  despise  him  !  " 

While  Cramoisin  remained,  with  gaping 
mouth,  incapable  of  words,  the  old  woman 
poured  out  her  reviling.  At  last  he  asked,  in 
amazement : 

"  What  do  you  want  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  want  your  help  to  destroy  him." 

"  Then  why  did  n't  you  say  so  at  first1?  " 

Fearing  to  be  forced  into  explanations,  she 
abated  her  fury  and  more  calmly  demanded : 

"  You  have  a  plan ;  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  It  's  true  *? "  Cramoisin  said,  still  uncon- 
vinced. "  You  '11  join  me  *?  " 

"  I  swear  it." 

"We  can't  convince  Javogues,"  Cramoisin 
began,  "unless  we  can  make  Nicole  betray 
him." 

"  But  how  *? " 

"Jealousy." 

"  Jealousy  ?  Is  there  cause  ?  Do  you  know 
anything  *?  " 

"  What  is  necessary  we  can  invent." 

"  She  won't  believe  it." 

"  She  '11  believe  it  when  she  hears  it  from  three 
persons,"  Cramoisin  said,  ruffling  up  his  nose 
and  sneering.  "A  woman  '11  believe  anything 
270 


CRAMOISIN  PLOTS  AGAINST  NICOLE 

three  persons  tell  her.  With  Boudgoust  and 
Jambony,  we  are  four." 

"  Is  that  your  plan  ?  "  she  cried,  in  disappoint- 
ment. "  It  's  stupid,  impossible  !  " 

Cramoisin  continued  to  argue  with  her  its 
merits ;  she  accorded  it  a  grunt,  then  a  shake  of 
the  head,  and  finally  said : 

"  Well,  yes ;  it  may  do.     We  can  try." 

"  It  's  agreed,  then.  We  must  excite  her 
suspicions,  —  but  nothing  definite." 

"  What,  are  you  going  to  give  me  instruc- 
tions ! "  la  Mere  Corniche  cried  irately.  "  As 
though  I  could  n't  handle  a  woman  ! " 

"  Touch  hands,  then ;  it  's  agreed  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  must  speak  the  first  word,"  he  said  hur- 
riedly. "It  will  be  better."  Shutting  off  a 
reply,  he  departed,  leaving  the  concierge  scowl- 
ing and  angry. 

"  Oui  da,  I  '11  speak  the  first  word,  old  schemer. 
He  does  n't  want  the  woman  to  lay  it  to  him, 
the  toad ! " 

The  next  morning,  as  Nicole  was  leaving  for 
the  flower-market,  la  Mere  Corniche  called  to 
her. 

"  Eh,  Nicole,  stop  a  moment."    The  girl,  who 
feared  her,  approached  reluctantly. 
271 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

"  You  're  going  to  the  market  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  To-morrow  is  Sunday.  I  want  to  put  some 
flowers  on  the  tomb  of  Marat.  See  what  is  going 
cheap  this  morning  and  tell  me." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"You  must  stop  from  time  to  time  to  give 
me  news,"  continued  la  Mere  Corniche,  taking 
her  hand. 

"  You  know  as  much  as  I  do." 

"  You  sell  flowers  every  day  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Your  man  does  n't  earn  enough,  then  ?  " 

"With  the  price  of  food  where  it  is  one  can't 
earn  too  much." 

"You  are  happy?"  the  old  woman  asked 
brusquely. 

"Why  do  you  ask  that?"  Nicole  replied, 
resenting  the  question. 

"There,  don't  get  angry.  You  may  have 
friends  you  don't  know  of."  She  released  her 
hand,  adding :  "  If  you  suspect  nothing,  I  '11  say 
no  more." 

Penetrating  readily  the  stratagem,  Nicole 
laughed  over  the  encounter,  and,  perceiving  the 
bald  attempt  to  rouse  her  jealousy,  she  dismissed 
the  conversation  contemptuously  from  her  mind. 

Toward  midday,  however,  the  insinuation  re- 
272 


CRAMOISIN  PLOTS  AGAINST  NICOLE 

turned,  and  forgetting  her  first  attitude,  she  suf- 
fered a  little  at  the  very  shadow  of  what  her 
imagination  could  conjure  up.  She  ended  by 
again  laughing  at  her  simplicity,  nor  did  her 
mind  recur  again  to  the  thought  during  the  day. 

That  evening,  as  she  passed  in  front  of  the 
Pretre  Pendu,  she  encountered  Cramoisin,  who 
watched  her  from  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  rubbing 
his  splayed  thumb  over  his  lip  in  such  an  ironi- 
cal fashion  that  she  stopped  and  demanded 
impatiently : 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?     I  seem  to  amuse  you." 

"  Eh,  perhaps  you  do." 

"  Come,  what  do  you  mean  by  such  looks !  " 

Then  rising,  he  looked  her  a  moment  in 
countenance,  and  replied : 

"Nicole,  they  told  me  you  were  clever." 

"  Well,  what  does  that  mean  ?  " 

"  It  means  that  you  are  either  very  stupid," 
he  said  curtly,  "  or  very  blind." 

Nicole  mounted  the  steps  in  perplexity,  ar- 
resting her  journey  at  every  landing  to  ask  her- 
^self  anxiously  what  he  could  have  meant.  In 
her  room  she  remained  blankly  at  the  window, 
forgetting  the  meal  she  had  to  prepare.  Several 
times  she  passed  her  hand  across  her  forehead,  as 
though  to  rout  the  unquiet  thoughts,  but  always 
returned  to  the  same  reverie.  The  church  bell 

273  , 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

ringing  five  aroused  her,  and,  ashamed  to  have 
yielded  to  such  doubts,  she  said  angrily  : 

"Come,  I  'm  an  idiot!  I  '11  tell  the  whole 
affair  to  Barabant  when  he  returns  and  we  will 
laugh  at  it  together." 

Yet  when  he  entered,  her  resolution  forgotten, 
she  rose  quickly,  and  taking  him  by  the  arms, 
looked  anxiously  in  his  face. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  *? "  he  asked. 
"  Why  do  you  look  at  me  so  curiously?  " 

"  I  was  afraid  you  would  do  something 
rash,"  she  said  evasively.  "  What — what  of  the 
Girondins  ?  " 

"  It  is  hopeless.  To-morrow  they  may  be 
condemned."  But  only  half  satisfied,  he  returned 
to  the  question.  "  Was  that  all  you  wanted  to 
know  *?  You  looked  at  me  very  queerly." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,"  she  said  quickly.  "  Ah, 
Barabant,  I  am  so  afraid  that  you  will  com- 
promise yourself  with  them." 

"  I  must  decide  —  and  you  would  not  have  me 
a  coward,  Nicole  *?  " 

She  defended  her  position,  she  repeated  the 
old  arguments,  she  tried  to  win  him  from  the 
thought  of  sacrifice ;  but  of  what  had  happened 
during  the  day  she  said  not  a  word. 

"  It  is  getting  late,"  she  exclaimed  finally.  "  I 
must  get  into  line." 

274 


CRAMOISIN  PLOTS  AGAINST  NICOLE 

"Let  me  take  the  whole  night,"  he  pleaded; 
"  you  are  tired." 

"  No,  no.     Not  at  all." 

She  hurried  below,  furious  at  herself  for  hav- 
ing betrayed  to  him  her  unrest,  but  when  she 
remembered  how  instantly  he  had  noticed  the 
strangeness  of  her  look,  she  could  not  help  think- 
ing that  a  little  suspicious. 

The  next  morning  she  prepared  to  meet  the 
concierge  with  a  new  defiance,  but  la  Mere 
Corniche  did  not  even  raise  her  head.  Cramoisin, 
to  her  relief,  was  absent;  only  Boudgoust  and 
Jambony  were  lounging  in  front  of  the  cabaret. 
She  cast  a  furtive  glance  in  their  direction;  they 
were  laughing  boisterously. 

"They  are  laughing  at  me,"  she  thought,  all 
her  doubts  returning. 

She  passed  a  miserable  morning,  tortured  by 
the  fears  that  now  seemed  always  to  have  been 
with  her.  Unable  to  bear  the  tumult  within  her 
breast,  she  determined  to  recount  all  to  Bara- 
bant.  If  anything  existed,  she  must  know  it 
definitely. 

Unfortunately,  the  arrival  of  Dossonville,  who 
joined  them  at  lunch  on  the  boulevards,  pre- 
vented the  confidence,  and  during  the  meal  an- 
other suggestion  added  to  her  suffering.  Bara- 
bant,  in  speaking  of  Dossonville's  interest  in 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

Louison,  expressed  his  astonishment  at  the  at- 
traction, ending  peremptorily: 

"As  for  me, —  she  repels  me." 

He  had  put  considerable  warmth  into  his 
criticism;  that  and  the  simple  declaration  of 
antagonism  made  havoc  in  the  imagination  of 
Nicole.  She  thought  the  opinion  obviously  un- 
necessary. She  asked  herself  if  he  really  were 
interested  in  Louison,  whom  she  had  always 
feared,  would  he  not  have  said  exactly  what  he 
had.  But  from  logical  inquiry  she  soon  flew  to 
conjecture  and  supposition,  to  weighing  each 
word  and  action  and  seeking  a  hidden  meaning. 
She  thought  no  longer  of  confiding  in  Barabant, 
but  held  herself  on  her  guard. 

She  was  not  convinced  —  she  but  half  believed; 
yet  she  returned  sadly.  Her  dream  was  over. 
Whatever  might  come,  the  first  breath  of  jeal- 
ousy had  entered  her  heart,  and,  rightly  or 
wrongly,  she  knew  that  her  tranquillity  had  de- 
parted forever. 


276 


VI 

BARABANT    HESITATES 

THE  Place  de  la  Revolution  was  choked 
with  the  multitude  come  to  witness  the 
end  of  the  Girondins.  The  populace,  indifferent 
to  the  sight  of  two  or  three  executions  a  day, 
gathered  with  common  impulse  to  witness  these 
men,  long  lifted  above  their  heads,  go  down  to 
their  death  in  humiliation  and  disgrace.  Many 
who  hungered,  cursed  them  in  the  need  of  some 
object  to  their  hatred ;  others  who  feared  them, 
in  the  savage  joy  of  deliverance ;  but  the  mass 
hooted  simply  from  the  delight  of  seeing  them 
fallen. 

Toward  one  o'clock  the  procession  of  five 
carts,  announced  by  all  the  tumults  of  the 
human  voice,  cut  through  the  frenzied  hordes, 
who  from  time  to  time  fell  back  into  silence, 
astonished  at  the  demeanor  of  these  men ;  who 
to  insults  addressed  the  crowds  with  cries  of 
"  Vive  la  Republique ! "  or  joined  in  the  chorus 
of  the  "Marseillaise." 

277 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

The  rumor  had  circulated  that  the  body  of 
Valaze,  who  had  committed  suicide  the  night 
before,  was  to  be  guillotined  with  the  rest.  In 
the  last  cart,  indeed,  the  people  discovered  the 
corpse  stretched  among  the  living. 

Arrived  at  the  scaffold,  the  twenty  descended ; 
the  one  remained.  A  jailer,  to  win  a  laugh, 
propped  up  the  corpse,  crying: 

"  Hurry  up  —  Valaze  's  waiting  for  you." 

The  crowd  applauded  with  jeers  and  taunts. 
The  Girondins  meanwhile  ranged  themselves  at 
the  foot  of  the  scaffold.  When  their  number 
was  complete,  with  one  movement  they  em- 
braced. 

Several,  turning  toward  the  public,  lifted  up 
their  arms  and  repeated  the  cry : 

"  Vive  la  Republique  !  " 

Then,  drawn  up  one  against  the  other,  giving 
front  to  the  torrent  of  their  enemies,  forgetting 
even  their  individualities  in  the  supreme  moment, 
the  condemned  began  the  hymn  of  the  Republic  : 

"Aliens,  enfants  de  la  Patrie, 
Le  jour  de  gloire  est  arrive. ' ' 

Every  two  minutes  one  of  the  fraternity  left 
the  ranks  and  ascended  the  ladder ;  but  the 
chorus  continued,  uninterrupted  either  by  the 
wild  acclaim  that  greeted  the  appearance  of 

278 


BARABANT   HESITATES 

each  victim  on  the  scaffold,  or  by  the  thundering 
shout  that  told  of  the  severed  head. 

The  chorus  thinned  to  three,  to  two,  to  one. 
The  last,  without  ceasing  the  chant,  mounted  to 
the  platform ;  only  the  knife  interrupted  the  song. 

Then,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  travel,  over  the 
immense  square,  over  the  packed  bridges  and 
distant,  darkened  streets,  like  an  immense  flight 
of  released  birds  there  appeared  above  the 
crowd  the  red  flutter  of  agitated  liberty-caps. 
The  populace,  who  believed  that  from  out  this 
hecatomb  would  come  relief  from  famine,  bread 
and  meat  to  save  them,  shouted  frantically. 
They  also  shouted  who  feared  to  be  silent.  The 
uproar  continued  for  ten  minutes  before  the 
mass  disintegrated. 

As  Goursac,  with  heavy  heart  yielding  to  the 
impulse  of  the  crowd,  sought  his  friends,  from 
whom  he  had  separated  for  the  sake  of  prudence, 
a  touch  on  his  arm  checked  his  progress.  To 
his  surprise,  he  encountered  the  solemn  face  of 
Le  Corbeau. 

"  What  do  you  wish  ?  " 

"  To  talk  with  you,"  the  lips  answered,  but  the 
eyes  said,  "  You  are  under  arrest." 

"  I  was  expecting  it,"  he  replied  calmly,  "but 
not  from  this  quarter."     He  sought  his  friends, 
but  the  movement  of  the  crowd  had  divided  them. 
279 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"After  all,  it  is  better  so,"  he  said  to  himself; 
"farewell  would  be  equivalent  to  a  warrant." 
He  turned  to  his  captor :  "  Where  are  you  tak- 
ing me  *?  " 

Le  Corbeau,  without  change  of  feature,  ignored 
the  question  and  kept  the  silence.  Resigning 
himself  to  the  situation,  Goursac  allowed  himself 
to  be  conducted  with  the  crowd;  but  all  at  once, 
as  they  entered  the  Rue  Antoine,  he  felt  an 
impress  on  his  other  arm  and  another  voice 
saying : 

"  This  way." 

This  time  he  perceived  Sans-Chagrin,  who, 
without  other  recognition,  drew  him  off  the 
thoroughfare.  They  penetrated  abruptly  into  a 
nest  of  narrow  streets,  winding  and  twisting  in  a 
manner  that  left  him  completely  in  doubt  as  to 
their  direction.  But  as  their  general  progress 
seemed  to  be  leading  them  toward  the  Cour  des 
Miracles,  that  cesspool  of  beggars,  thieves,  and 
cutthroats,  he  began  to  fear  that  this  capture  had 
some  other  design  in  view  than  his  imprisonment. 

He  quitted  his  attitude  of  indifference  and 
summoned  all  his  faculties  to  find  a  reason  for 
this  strange  course.  Observing  that  at  each 
corner  they  turned  his  captors  were  forcing  him 
into  a  wider  circle,  the  conviction  grew  in  him 
that  they  took  this  subterfuge  to  see  if  they  were 
280 


BARABANT   HESITATES 

followed.  At  the  next  corner  he  himself  turned 
—  without  success.  But  at  the  third  attempt  he 
distinguished,  lurking  behind,  the  three  incongru- 
ous figures  of  Cramoisin,  Boudgoust,  and  Jam- 
bony ! 

Then  no  longer  doubting  that  he  was  being 
led  to  his  death,  he  resolved  that  no  weakness  of 
his  should  add  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  enemies. 

But  at  this  moment,  as  for  the  twentieth  time 
they  turned  a  corner,  he  was  seized  under  the  arms 
and  rushed  at  a  run  down  an  alley.  Through  an 
entrance  in  the  end  he  was  propelled  through 
courts,  hallways,  and  passages  innumerable,  and 
suddenly  emerged  into  a  distant  street. 

Goursac,  now  utterly  at  a  loss,  made  no  resist- 
ance to  this  sudden  doubling.  Only  when,  after 
a  few  anxious  blocks,  he  perceived  that  they 
were  no  longer  followed,  he  again  sought  to 
enter  into  conversation  with  Sans-Chagrin,  to  be 
met  by  the  same  obstinate  silence. 

Their  attitude  increased  his  perplexity,  which 
was  now  augmented  by  their  totally  ignoring 
the  direction  of  the  prisons  and  striking  out  for 
the  barriers  of  the  city.  Not  until  the  Barriere 
du  Trone  Renverse  itself  was  in  sight  did  his 
captors  stop.  Entering  an  inn,  they  gave  a  sign 
of  recognition  to  the  host,  passed  down  a  hall- 
way, and  pushed  their  prisoner  into  a  large  room, 
281 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

where  he  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  Dosson- 
ville.  At  the  sight  of  the  agent  de  surete,  Goursac 
drew  himself  up  haughtily. 

"So,  Citoyen  Dossonville,  you  turn  with  the 
wind,"  he  said.  "  I  did  not  suspect  your  versa- 
tility." 

"  Heavens,  my  dear  Goursac,  yes ! "  cried 
Dossonville.  "  But  if  I  go  with  the  wind,  I 
hope  to  be  of  some  use  to  those  who  oppose  it." 
He  pointed  to  the  table.  "  That  package  will 
interest  you." 

"  There  is  some  mistake,"  Goursac  said,  as  he 
scanned  the  document.  "  This  is  a  passport  for 
the  Citoyen  Jacques  Monestier." 

"  Well,  what  of  that  —  Citoyen  Monestier  ?  " 

Goursac  looked  at  the  passport,  and  from  it  to 
the  laughing  countenance  of  Dossonville. 

"Then  it  was  to  save  me,"  he  said  slowly, 
"  that  you  had  me  arrested  ?  " 

"  Parbleu  !     You  are  waking  up !  " 

With  one  bound,  Goursac  caught  Dossonville 
in  his  arms. 

"  Pardon,  pardon  !  What  a  fool  I  am ! "  he 
cried.  "  My  noble,  my  generous  friend  !  Head 
of  an  ass  that  I  have  on  my  shoulders !  You 
risk  your  life  for  mine !  Thanks,  thanks ;  a 
thousand  times,  thanks  !  " 

"Good!"  Dossonville  broke  in.  "Weunder- 
282 


BARABANT   HESITATES 

stand  each  other  now.  We  have  but  little  time; 
listen  to  me."  He  stopped  the  other  in  the 
torrent  of  his  protestations.  "Only  remember 
this,  that  if  a  weather-vane  turns  to  every  breeze, 
it  relinquishes  its  base  not  a  jot,  not  even  to  the 
hurricane.  I  find  therein  a  great  moral."  He 
dismissed  the  thought  with  a  gesture.  "Now 
for  you.  You  must  pass  the  gates  immediately. 
When  Javogues  discovers  your  escape,  he  may 
give  orders  to  watch  all  the  gates.  See  here, 
my  friend  —  you  must  listen  to  me." 

Goursac  was  paying  not  the  slightest  attention. 
Seated  on  a  chair,  his  face  aglow,  he  regarded 
Dossonville  with  almost  adoration,  while  from 
time  to  time  his  emotion  exploded  in  words. 

"Dossonville,  you  are  heroic!  You  are  sub- 
lime !  Oh,  if  I  only  could  acquaint  the  world 
with  such  an  action!  Magnificent!  Heroic!  He- 
roic, I  tell  you !  " 

Dossonville,  perceiving  his  joy,  thought  to  him- 
self, "  Yes,  heroism  before  death  is  all  very  well, 
but  how  the  hope  of  life  transforms  a  man!" 
Aloud  he  continued,  "  Take  the  passport  and 
hurry." 

Then  Goursac,  retreating  a  step,  said  but  one 
word : 

"No!" 

But  in  the  word,  with  the  flash  of  his  eye,  with 
283 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

the  toss  of  his  head,  with  the  resolution  of  his 
lips,  there  was  the  eloquence  of  an  oration. 

This  time  it  was  Dossonville  who  was  over- 
come with  astonishment. 

"  You  are  mad  ! "  he  exclaimed,  seizing  him 
by  the  lapel.  "  If  you  return,  it  is  to  the  guil- 
lotine." 

"  So  be  it ! " 

"  Reflect." 

"  I  have.  Had  I  wished  to  save  myself,  I 
should  have  done  so  long  ago." 

"  Then  you  seek  death  *?  " 

"  I  will  not  fly  from  the  scum,"  Goursac  said 
proudly.  "  I  am  a  Girondin  and  a  Frenchman. 
When  I  can  no  longer  live  as  a  Girondin,  I  am 
ready  to  die  as  a  Frenchman.  Liberty  *?  What 
do  you  offer  me?  Exile  and  a  daily  cringing  from 
discovery,  a  miserable,  hunted  existence  in  the 
mud  and  rain  ?  No!  "  He  took  a  step  forward 
and  grasped  his  hand.  "  For  what  you  have 
risked  for  me  accept  my  benediction;  may  it 
bring  good  luck." 

"  At  least,  take  the  passport,"  said  Dossonville, 
desperately,  holding  it  out  to  him,  "so  that  if 
you  change  your  mind — " 

"  So  that  I  may  not  change  my  mind  —  there." 

With  a  rapid  motion  Goursac  tore  the  pass- 
port in  two,  embraced  Dossonville,  and  went  out. 
284 


BARABANT   HESITATES 

Before  the  Pretre  Pendu,  Cramoisin,  Boud- 
goust,  and  Jambony,  more  dead  than  alive,  hung 
their  heads  in  terror  while  Javogues,  like  a 
wounded  bull,  strode  backward  and  forward  be- 
fore them,  filling  the  air  with  Jtus  imprecations. 

"Come,  you  lie,  one  and  all.  You  lie,  Cra- 
moisin ;  you  lie,  Boudgoust ;  you  lie,  Jambony. 
He  has  bought  you  with  gold !  You  have  sold 
yourselves ! " 

"  I  swear  they  escaped  us  through  some  pas- 
sage ! "  Boudgoust  cried. 

"  We  searched  an  hour,"  Cramoisin  put  in. 

"  Shut  up ! " 

Javogues  seized  him  furiously  by  the  shoulders, 
and  approaching  his  gleaming  eyes  as  though  to 
force  the  truth  from  his  face,  he  shouted : 

"  You  lie  !     You  lie  !     I  see  you  lie  !  " 

Abandoning  him,  he  seized  Jambony,  shaking 
him  like  a  whip ;  but  as  he  opened  his  mouth  to 
roar  forth  fresh  denunciations,  he  stopped  short 
and  dropped  the  cub  in  amazement.  At  the 
same  moment  a  murmur  ran  throughout  the 
crowd,  which,  parting,  disclosed  the  approaching 
figure  of  Goursac. 

The  Girondin  perceived  his  enemies  by  the 
same  motion  of  the  crowd ;  but  without  faltering, 
he  continued  nodding  to  the  acquaintances  who 
now  shrank  before  him. 

28; 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

He  had  passed  the  cabaret  and  was  almost  at 
the  entrance  of  No.  38  before  Javogues  could 
recover.  Then,  with  a  roar,  he  cried : 

"  Stop ! " 

Goursac  wheeled,  returned,  and  halted. 

"  What  do  you  wish  of  me  ?  " 

Javogues,  brought  thus  to  the  long-desired 
moment,  folded  his  arms  and  said  brutally : 

"  You  do  not  rejoice,  citoyen,  at  the  death  of 
traitors." 

"  I  always  rejoice  at  the  death  of  traitors." 

"  You  rejoice  to-day,  then  ?  " 

"  I  grieve." 

He  pronounced  the  words  sadly. 

"You  are  against  the  Revolution.     Say  it." 

"  I  believe  the  Revolution  is  so  great  that  its 
ideas  can  survive  even  the  massacre  that  you 
assassins  have  begun."  Then  interrupting  the 
catechism  disdainfully,  he  said  :  "  Enough.  I 
should  never  have  survived  this  day.  Arrest 
me." 

Javogues,  too  overcome  with  rage  for  utter- 
ance, consigned  him  with  a  furious  gesture  to  his 
body-guard.  From  all  sides  went  up  a  shout 
of  hatred  and  anger.  Children  and  women 
crowded  about,  vying  with  one  another  to  insult 
the  prisoner;  men  shook  their  fists  in  his  face 
and  hooted.  Amid  curses  and  raillery,  the 
286 


BARABANT   HESITATES 

Girondin  walked  with  collected  steps,  looking 
into  the  ranks  of  his  foes  with  steady  eyes. 

They  had  gone  but  a  block  when  they  en- 
countered Nicole  and  Barabant.  At  the  sight  of 
Goursac  in  custody,  surrounded  by  the  snarling 
pack,  the  two,  obeying  only  their  generous  im- 
pulses, sprang  forward  with  outstretched  hands : 

"  What,  you,  my  friend ! "  Nicole  cried,  in 
astonishment  and  sorrow.  "  They  have  arrested 
you ! " 

"No,  they  are  liberating  me,"  he  answered, 
with  a  smile.  He  pressed  their  hands.  "  Adieu, 
Nicole ;  adieu,  Barabant ;  and  thanks." 

But  suddenly  the  voice  of  la  Mere  Corniche 
rose  shrilly : 

"  He  is  the  friend  of  the  Girondin.  He  is 
contre-revolutionnaire.  Arrest  the  man  Bara- 
bant ! " 

Cramoisin  took  up  the  cry. 

"  He  who  pities  an  enemy  of  the  Nation  is  a 
traitor.  Arrest  him  !  " 

Boudgoust  and  Jambony,  joining  in,  shouted  : 

"  Arrest  him  !     Arrest  him  !  " 

In  the  abject  crowd,  terrified  by  these  four 
men,  a  murmur,  a  muttering,  a  rumble,  circu- 
lated, which  it  waited  to  convert  into  either  pro- 
test or  approval  as  Javogues  should  pronounce. 

As   the    Marseillais    unwillingly  approached, 

287 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

Nicole,  dragging  Barabant  back,  whispered  in  his 
ear  that  eternal  cry  of  woman : 

"  Save  thyself.     Thy  life  belongs  to  me." 

"Citoyen  Barabant,"  Javogues  said  sternly, 
"  did  you  greet  this  man  as  a  Girondin  *? " 

"  I  greeted  him,"  Barabant  said  slowly,  "  as  a 
man  who  has  done  me  kindnesses  in  the  past." 

Before  this  allusion  to  his  own  indebtedness 
Javogues  hesitated,  but  the  cries  of  the  crowd 
urged  him  on. 

"  He  evades  the  question ! " 

"  He  's  a  Girondin  !  " 

"  Ask  him  if  he  's  a  Girondin  ! " 

The  last  cry,  from  la  Mere  Corniche,  imposed 
itself  above  the  rest. 

"Citoyen  Barabant,"  Javogues  asked,  "are 
you  a  Girondin  ?  " 

As  Barabant  hesitated,  Nicole  sought  the 
glance  of  Goursac,  invoking  his  aid.  The  Gi- 
rondin, who  saw  no  one  but  her,  perceiving  her 
motive,  thought  bitterly:  "I  die,  and  she  cannot 
spare  me  a  look  of  pity  ! " 

The  crowd  was  clamoring. 

"  He  hesitates ! " 

"  He  refuses  ! " 

"Arrest  him!" 

At  their  cries,  Barabant  decided. 

"  I  am  not  a  Girondin,"  he  said. 
288 


BARABANT    HESITATES 

A  chorus  of  approval  greeted  the  renunciation, 
but  la  Mere  Corniche,  not  to  be  balked,  cried : 

"  He  is  deceiving  us !  " 

Those  who  wished  to  save  him  called  to  him : 
"  Cry,  Vive  les  Jacobins  !  " 

Barabant,  all  escape  denied  him,  shouted : 

"  Vive  la  Nation !    Vive  les  Jacobins !  " 

Then,  while  la  Mere  Corniche  and  the  three 
were  silent  in  helpless  rage,  the  crowd,  which 
adored  Barabant,  surrounded  him,  slapping  him 
on  the  shoulders,  shaking  his  hand,  congratulat- 
ing him.  With  one  accord  the  shout  went  up : 
"  Vive  Barabant !  " 

When  the  shouting  died,  Nicole  heard  the 
rasping  voice  of  Goursac  saying  to  his  captors 
with  triumphant  sarcasm : 

"  I  see  no  further  need  of  delay ;  proceed." 


VII 

THE    MADNESS    OF    JEALOUSY 

THE  victory  was  to  the  woman,  but  it  was 
a  victory  fraught  with  menace.  Nicole 
understood  her  danger,  but  in  her  anxiety  she 
adopted  the  wrong  defense.  On  the  stairway  she 
infolded  Barabant  with  her  arm,  seeking  to  com- 
municate to  his  depressed  body  the  gaiety  and 
relief  in  hers,  while  with  all  the  artifices  of  the 
woman  who  feels  herself  menaced  she  sought  to 
belittle  the  importance  of  the  scene,  little  realiz- 
ing the  deep  wound  to  the  pride  of  Barabant. 

"  It  was  for  me  you  did  it,"  she  whispered. 
"  You  would  not  leave  me.  I  alone  under- 
stood." 

He  did  not  answer,  and  once  in  their  room,  fell 
into  a  chair,  burying  his  head  in  his  hands. 
Alarmed  at  his  obstinate  silence,  Nicole,  groping 
for  the  right  attitude,  began  to  reason,  walking 
the  floor  in  her  earnestness. 

"  After  all,  mon  ami,  that  is  what  the  Terror- 
ists want —  to  guillotine  the  Moderates.  Goursac 
290 


THE   MADNESS   OF  JEALOUSY 

was  foolish;  he  played  into  the  hands  of  his 
enemies.  You  are  wise.  The  duty  of  the 
Moderates  is  to  keep  silent,  to  preserve  them- 
selves for  the  good  of  the  Nation.  How  can 
you  serve  the  Nation  without  your  head"?  The 
times  will  change,  mon  ami,  and  you  '11  be  here 
to  help  set  things  aright." 

"  Oh,  that  voice,"  cried  Barabant,  "  I  hear  it 
always." 

"  Mon  ami,  you  are  suffering !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"I  know.  I  understand." 

She  threw  herself  at  his  feet,  trying  to  separate 
his  hands,  seeking  to  take  his  head  upon  her 
shoulder ;  but  Barabant  resisted,  saying : 

"  No,  Nicole,  no ;  leave  me  to  myself." 

"Don't  put  me  away,"  she  begged.  "You 
are  suffering ;  let  me  share  it." 

He  took  her  hands  from  his  neck  and  com- 
pelled her  to  rise.  She  went  to  the  window, 
twice  turning  to  look  at  the  dejected  figure  that 
remained  unaware  of  her  glances. 

"  I  have  made  a  blunder.  Yes,  I  have  made 
a  blunder,"  she  said  to  herself,  pressing  her  hand 
against  her  lips  to  quell  the  rising  sob.  "  He 
blames  me." 

The  next  morning  she  received  another  shock 
when  he  informed  her  that  he  wished  to  be  alone 
all  day. 

291 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

"  Then  we  don't  lunch  together  *?  "  she  cried, 
frightened. 

"  Not  to-day." 

Not  daring  to  contradict  him,  she  let  him  go 
without  a  word. 

"He  blames  me.  He  blames  me,"  she  told 
herself,  until  all  at  once,  like  a  thunder-clap, 
came  the  thought :  "  Or  is  it  only  a  pretext  ?  " 

Her  judgment  tumbled  before  the  suggestion, 
and  on  the  moment  she  was  surrounded  by  the 
old  doubts.  She  hurried  out,  morbidly  sensitive 
to  the  glances  of  the  concierge,  of  the  loiterers 
before  the  cabaret,  of  the  bouquetieres  her  com- 
rades; seeing  everywhere  mocking  glances  or 
looks  of  sympathy.  Despite  Barabant's  wish 
and  her  better  judgment,  she  scoured  his  haunts 
with  the  one  desire  to  know  what  he  was  doing. 

After  a  day  of  agony  spent  in  fruitless  travel, 
she  returned  to  their  room,  without  a  glimpse  of 
Barabant.  Having  prepared  the  meal,  she  sat 
down  before  the  fire  to  wait  impatiently  the  hour 
of  seven,  when  he  would  return.  Beside  her 
chair  she  placed  a  redingote  of  his  and  sew- 
ing-material. In  the  disorder  of  her  mind  all 
her  naturalness  had  departed,  and  seeking  every- 
thing with  artifices,  she  wished  him  to  come 
upon  her  as  she  watched  their  supper  and  busied 
herself  with  his  wardrobe. 
292 


THE   MADNESS   OF  JEALOUSY 

"  That  will  soften  his  resentment,  perhaps," 
she  thought.  "And  that  everything  may  be 
cheerful,  I  must  be  singing." 

So,  when  later  the  stairs  gave  out  the  sounds 
of  footsteps,  she  hurriedly  possessed  the  mend- 
ing, humming  as  she  sewed;  but  the  steps  ceased 
two  flights  below.  The  redingote  slipped  from 
her  hands,  the  song  stopped,  and,  overcome  with 
disappointment,  she  cried : 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu,  it  is  not  he  ! " 

When  seven  arrived  and  she  began  to  be 
anxious,  she  consoled  herself  with  the  thought 
that  the  effect  would  be  better  if  he  found  her 
waiting  without  complaint.  A  burning  smell 
warned  her  that  the  dinner  was  spoiling.  She 
removed  the  pots  from  the  fire,  placing  them  for 
warmth  in  the  ashes,  and,  abandoning  all  thought 
of  the  picture  she  had  imagined,  went  to  the 
window,  where  she  remained,  pressing  her  hands 
against  her  temples,  staring  into  the  misty  night. 

At  nine  o'clock  she  returned  into  the  middle 
of  the  room,  and  looking  about  at  the  scene  of 
her  happiness,  she  said  with  conviction : 

"  It  is  ended  ! " 

Traveling  ceaselessly  back  and  forth  like  a 
panther,  she  cried:  "  Yes,  yes,  it  is  ended  ! "  Still, 
as  long  as  she  repeated  it,  she  continued  to  hope, 
and  at  each  fancied  creak  she  ran  to  the  landing, 

293 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

leaning  over  to  catch  his  first  footfall.  But  when 
she  returned,  she  still  said  : 

"  No,  no ;  I  knew  it.     It  is  ended  —  ended  !  " 

At  ten  she  ceased  to  repeat  it,  —  she  was  con- 
vinced. She  collapsed  on  the  bed,  brain  and 
body  incapable  of  effort,  while  the  cruel  minutes, 
in  their  inexorable  procession,  inflicted  each  a 
separate  torture. 

When  midnight  announced  itself,  the  last 
thread  of  hope  snapped  within  her.  She 
bounded  up,  lit  a  candle,  descended  the  flight, 
and  entered  the  room,  calling,  "  Goursac  ! " 

She  had  forgotten  the  arrest.  The  fact  ap- 
peared to  her  as  an  evil  omen,  presaging  ca- 
lamity. 

In  fear  of  the  sepulchral  stillness,  she  fled 
back,  rushing  in  a  panic  to  her  room,  where  she 
gazed  about  helplessly,  asking  herself  what  she 
was  to  do.  All  at  once,  at  the  window,  staring 
at  her  old  room,  she  cried : 

"If  it  is  Louison!"  And  emitting  an  "Ah!" 
that  had  in  it  the  note  of  murder,  she  passed  out 
of  the  window. 

The  night  was  filled  with  fog,  out  of  which 
descended  the  sharp  sting  of  rain.  She  moved 
slowly,  her  body  pressed  to  the  roof,  seeing  with 
her  fingers  until  the  dormer-window  struck  against 
her  foot.  Once  into  Louison's  room,  she  crept 

294 


THE  MADNESS   OF  JEALOUSY 

to  the  bed,  stretching  out  her  hand.      It  was 
empty. 

"Oh!  oh!  oh!" 

The  cry  was  of  something  collapsing  in  her 
soul.  Without  returning  to  her  room,  she  sped 
down  the  stairs,  through  the  two  courts,  and  into 
the  street.  In  her  unheeding  rush,  she  turned  to 
the  right,  missing  Barabant,  who  was  at  the 
moment  returning  from  the  opposite  direction. 

When  she  could  run  no  longer,  she  dropped 
into  a  walk  until,  recovering  her  breath,  she 
broke  again  into  a  run.  At  the  street  corners 
the  bracketed  lanterns  suffused  the  fog  with  a 
floating  radiance  that  guided  her  over  the  glisten- 
ing, slippery  stones.  The  mist  that  threatened 
the  world  with  a  destiny  of  gloom,  the  rain  that 
gathered  on  her  eyelashes  and  weighted  her  hair, 
she  welcomed  as  the  fitting  touch  to  her  misery ; 
but  the  chill  abated  not  a  jot  of  the  fever  in  her 
veins.  Out  of  the  blurred  night  occasionally 
long  lines  of  watchers  emerged,  crouching  un- 
der shawls,  hugging  the  walls  to  escape  the  rain. 
A  dozen  brutish  arms  snatched  at  her,  but  elud- 
ing all,  she  arrived,  panting  and  trembling,  at  her 
destination,  crying  to  the  servant  who  answered 
her  knock : 

"  Citoyenne,  is  this  the  Committee  of  Safety  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

295 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"  I  must  see  them." 

"  Do  you  come  to  denounce  some  one  *? " 

"  I  do." 

"Enter." 

Nicole  found  herself  in  a  hall. 

"Name,  citoyenne  *?" 

"The  Citoyenne  Nicole,  bouquetiere.  The 
Citoyen  Couthon  will  know  me." 

The  servant  passed  to  a  door  at  the  back  and 
knocked  timidly.  At  the  second  repetition  a 
voice  cried : 

"  Come  in." 

The  door  opened  on  a  group  of  men  about  a 
table  littered  with  papers. 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"A  citoyenne  who  wishes  to  make  a  denun- 
ciation." 

"  Name  ?  " 

"  The  Citoyenne  Nicole,  bouquetiere." 

"  Tiens !  I  know  her,"  exclaimed  a  voice.  The 
spokesman,  on  this  evidence,  gave  a  sign  of  per- 
mission to  the  servant,  who  ushered  in  Nicole. 

A  voice  said  approvingly : 

"  Look  —  she  is  pretty." 

"  Have  n't  the  time." 

Several,  attracted  by  the  exclamation,  gave  her 
a  casual  glance;  the  rest,  without  raising  their 
heads,  continued  the  low  hum  of  their  confer- 
296 


THE  MADNESS   OF  JEALOUSY 

cnce.  From  the  farther  side  a  man  wrapped  in 
blankets,  deformed,  infirm,  seized  with  sudden 
chills,  greeted  her. 

"  Well,  Nicole,  you  've  come  to  denounce 
some  one  ?  That  's  right." 

"  Citoyen  Couthon,"  Nicole  blurted,  "  I  — " 

At  the  aspect  of  these  machine-like  men  in- 
dustriously busy  with  the  lists  that  fed  the  guil- 
lotine, all  her  anger  dissolved — she  could  not 
pronounce  there  the  name  she  had  loved. 

"  Well,  well,"  Couthon  said  encouragingly, 
"you  want  to  denounce  whom*?  Come,  let  us 
get  at  it.  Not  the  Citoyen  Eugene  Barabant,  at 
least,"  he  said,  with  a  good-natured  leer. 

The  sound  of  that  name  in  this  spot,  without 
pity,  terrified  Nicole;  she  now  sought  only  an 
excuse  to  retreat. 

"  What  name  's  that  ?  "  cried  a  little  man  from 
the  table.  "Eugene  Barabant?  Wait  a  moment ; 
wait  a  moment.  Let  me  search." 

Couthon  lounged  to  the  side  of  the  speaker, 
who,  turning  to  his  neighbor,  demanded  the  list 
of  suspects  to  be  arrested,  while  Nicole,  flattened 
against  the  wall,  dazed  by  a  sudden  fear,  remained 
trembling  at  the  snatches  of  conversation  that 
reached  her. 

"A  man  offered  me  one  thousand  livres  to- 
day if  I  'd  slip  in  the  name  of  his  wife." 
297 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"  That  was  cheap  !  " 

"  Heron  is  becoming  insupportable.  He  's 
sent  in  the  name  of  every  one  in  his  building. 
To-day  it  's  the  woman  above  him." 

"  She  makes  too  much  noise,  no  doubt." 

"  What 's  the  difference?  The  Nation  needs  the 
funds.  We  must  coin  money  on  the  Place  de 
la  Revolution ;  the  guillotine  is  the  mint  of  the 
Nation." 

"You  're  a  financier." 

"  I  'm  proud  of  it.  Guillotine  the  rich  — 
there  's  my  finance." 

Couthon  raised  his  head. 

"  That  's  strange ;  I  too  thought  I  'd  seen  the 
name." 

The  others,  attracted  by  his  exclamation, 
asked : 

"  What  name  ?  " 

"  Barabant.     Eugene  Barabant." 

A  small  man  spoke  up. 

"  Denounced  last  night  by  the  Citoyen  Ja- 
vogues  and  an  old  hag  the  size  of  a  child.  Do 
you  remember  *? " 

A  chorus  of  assent  greeted  him. 

"  Barabant  denounced  !  "  Nicole  cried.  "  Bar- 
abant denounced !  "  She  extended  her  hand. 
"  La  Mere  Corniche  ?  " 

"  That  's  the  name." 

208 


THE  MADNESS  OF  JEALOUSY 

"Come,  Nicole,  a  lover  is  easily  replaced. 
I  've  sacrificed  two  already  to  the  Nation,"  Cou- 
thon  cried.  "  Don't  lose  your  time ;  denounce 
your  suspect.  We  are  short  to-night." 

"  A  pretty  patriot  like  that  has  right  to  a 
dozen  suspects,"  cried  another,  amid  laughter. 

Overwhelmed,  dizzy,  and  horror-stricken,  she 
shook  her  head,  felt  with  her  hands  until  she 
found  the  door,  and,  backing  from  the  room,  fled 
from  the  house  —  fled  back  through  the  ghostly 
city. 

Goursac's  door  was  opened;  Genevieve  herself, 
with  solemn  face  flushed  with  the  light  of  her 
candle,  was  waiting  for  her. 

"  Tell  me  quick !  "  she  cried,  apprehending 
what  had  happened. 

"  You  know,  then  ?  " 

"  Know  what  ?  " 

"  Barabant  has  been  arrested." 

She  recoiled  to  the  wall  shrieking: 

"  Arrested ! " 

"  An  hour  ago." 

"Where1?" 

"  Here." 

"  Here  *?     Then  he  came  back  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Without  waiting  to  hear  more,  she  fled  to 
their  room.  The  lantern  he  had  lighted  shone 
299 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

over  the  stone  floor,  the  cheerless  walls,  and  the 
kinks  in  the  roof.  It  was  all  empty  —  terribly 
empty.  On  the  bed  she  perceived  the  belt  and 
the  coat  he  had  left.  Forgetting  her  jealousy, 
her  anger,  her  mission,  remembering  only  that 
he  had  returned,  knowing  only  that  her  dream 
was  ended,  she  stretched  out  her  helpless  arms 
and  cried: 

"  Barabant !     Barabant ! " 

Then,  overcome  with  hunger,  weariness,  and 
the  ravages  of  her  emotion,  she  slipped  to  the 
floor  in  a  heap. 


300 


VIII 

LA    F$TE    DE    LA    RAISON 

ON  the  2oth  of  Brumaire,  day  of  the  Feast  of 
Reason,  maddest  day  the  world  has  ever 
known,  the  Revolution,  having  overturned  the 
social  order,  abolished  the  clergy,  introduced  the 
monetary  system,  instituted  fraternal  banquets, 
established  popular  education,  and  renamed  the 
calendar,  now,  as  though  unwilling  that  aught 
should  exist  save  in  its  image,  decreed  the  aboli- 
tion of  religion  and  set  up  the  cult  of  Reason. 
The  neighborhood  of  the  Pretre  Pendu,  accus- 
tomed as  it  was  to  the  vagaries  of  its  tyrants,  was 
yet  astounded  at  the  pitch  of  frenzy  to  which  exul- 
tation stirred  the  Marseillais  and  his  companions. 
The  ecstasy  of  Javogues  terrified  all  with  its 
frantic  joy;  for  him  the  consummation  of  the 
human  race  had  arrived.  He  spent  the  morning 
before  the  cabaret,  astride  a  vat,  dispensing  wine 
and  hand-shakes,  his  arms  in  the  air  haranguing 
the  crowd  that  trembled  to  be  present  and  dared 
not  stay  away. 

301 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"Religion  is  dead!"  he  bellowed  to  all  comers. 
"  The  farce  is  ended !  The  impudent  bubble  is 
pricked ! " 

Boudgoust  and  Jambony,  on  either  side,  imi- 
tated his  fury  and  his  gestures,  while  Cramoisin, 
twisting  in  the  crowd,  made  all  he  met  shout  to 
the  cry  of: 

"  Vive  la  Raison  ! " 

The  listeners  for  the  most  part  simulated  en- 
thusiasm, with  an  eye  to  escape.  A  few  echoed  : 

"  Down  with  superstition  ! " 

La  Mere  Corniche,  hobbling  into  the  midst  of 
them,  extended  her  hand  to  Javogues  in  rough 
familiarity,  crying : 

"  Well,  my  big  fellow,  are  you  happy  *?  What 
a  day,  hanh  "?  No  more  superstitions  for  us ! 
Touch  hands." 

"  Touch  there,  mother ! "  Their  hands  met 
with  a  clap.  "  Did  n't  I  tell  you,  from  the  first, 
there  is  no  God  ?  " 

*'  Aye,  you  did.    He  never  feared,  that  man ! " 

"  I  say  it  now,"  Javogues  cried,  and  thrice  he 
shouted :  "  There  is  no  God  ! " 

Suddenly,  flinging  from  the  vat,  he  cleared  a 
space  about  him  with  his  arm,  and,  seizing 
Genevieve  by  the  shoulder  to  steady  himself, 
cried : 

"  If  there  is  a  God,  let  him  strike  me  down. 
302 


LA  F&TE  DE   LA   RAISON 

Let  the  moment  decide  between  us.  I  defy 
him!" 

He  raised  his  fist  to  the  sky  and  remained 
waiting,  while  more  than  one  closed  their  eyes  in 
terror.  Then  as  the  skies  disgorged  no  thunder- 
bolt, his  arm  relaxed,  descending  to  his  side,  and 
the  scornful  lips  with  a  sneer  pronounced : 

"Bah!" 

"Vive  Ja vogues!" 

It  was  the  voice  of  Cramoisin  that  acclaimed 
the  victor. 

Abandoning  Genevieve,  Javogues  caught  from 
the  crowd  a  bakeress  and  a  fille  de  joie  and  forced 
them  into  each  other's  arms,  crying : 

"  Embrace ;  the  Revolution  declares  you  sis- 
ters!" 

Leaving  the  frightened  women  cowering,  he 
again  seized  Genevieve  as  a  prop,  and  clearing 
the  throng,  rolled  up  the  street,  invoking  each 
window  with  the  exulting  shout : 

"  Vive  la  Raison  !  " 

While  Cramoisin  and  Boudgoust  combated 
for  the  relinquished  vat,  Jambony,  serving  the 
spigot,  impudent  and  mocking,  bellowed : 

"  Citoyens,  it  is  not  enough  to  wipe  out  cults : 
we  must  level  the  steeples.  Steeples  are  aristo- 
cratic. What  's  the  use  of  making  Temples  of 
Reason  of  the  ci-devant  churches  if  steeples  are 

3°3 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

to  lord  it  over  us.     Steeples  are  the  princes  of 
the  city ! " 

"  Citoyen,  the  Section  des  Bonnes  Nouvelles 
has  already  done  so !  "  a  woman  cried. 

"  Then  Vive  la  Section  des  Bonnes  Nou- 
velles ! " 

With  the  departure  of  Javogues  the  crowd 
grew  noisy,  disputing  and  haranguing.  From 
the  top  of  the  vat,  which  he  had  gained,  Cramoi- 
sin  bellowed  in  vain  to  them  to  listen  to  his 
ideas  on  the  primeval  innocence  and  the  com- 
munity of  women.  The  throng  had  turned  to 
another  who,  applauding  the  laws  of  burial,  de- 
clared, beyond  interring  each  citoyen  under  the 
simple  tricolor  flag,  perfect  equality  could  be 
obtained  only  by  identical  tombstones. 

All  at  once  la  Mere  Corniche,  who  had  re- 
mained on  the  fringe  of  the  crowd,  shrank  into 
it  with  an  exclamation  of  fear.  At  the  entrance 
of  No.  38  appeared  Nicole.  On  her  face  was 
the  brooding  and  the  color  of  death.  For  a 
moment  she  leaned  against  the  wall,  searching 
uneasily  among  the  crowd.  Then,  still  seeking, 
she  approached,  swaying  from  side  to  side,  and 
her  eye  fell  on  la  Mere  Corniche  —  and  passed. 

"  It  is  not  I,"  the  old  woman  muttered,  still 
trembling  from  the  suspense.  "  It  's  Cramoisin." 

Then   as  Nicole,  shaking   her   head,  turned 

3°4 


LA   F^TE   DE   LA   RAISON 

wearily  and  went  down  the  street,  rubbing  from 
time  to  time  against  the  wall,  la  Mere  Corniche 
said  to  herself,  "  Ah,  it  is  Javogues  !  " 

She  sought  the  eye  of  Cramoisin.  He  was 
still  on  the  vat,  struck  dumb  in  the  midst  of  a 
furious  harangue,  following  the  girl  as  she  dis- 
appeared from  sight. 

The  concierge,  in  her  fear,  had  guessed  rightly: 
Nicole  sought  the  Marseillais.  Her  doubts  of 
Barabant,  dispelled  on  the  instant  of  his  arrest, 
had  given  place  to  bitter  reproaches,  to  self-ac- 
cusation, and  to  an  immense,  confused  hatred  of 
the  man  who  had  betrayed  him.  The  separa- 
tion was  irrevocable;  she  could  see  nothing 
ahead.  In  the  desolation  of  her  hopes  her  anger 
turned  against  the  Revolution.  Barabant  guilty ! 
Barabant,  the  generous,  impulsive  advocate  of 
great  ideas,  a  traitor!  At  such  a  thought  her 
whole  being  rose  in  revolt  against  the  Revolu- 
tion that  would  destroy  him.  Without  dis- 
tinguishing its  abuses  from  its  truths,  reasoning 
from  men  to  ideas,  revolting  at  the  doctrine  of 
the  community  of  women  that  menaced  her 
pure  ambitions,  she  saw  the  Revolution  only  in 
the  furious  figure  of  Javogues,  brutal,  despotic, 
and  mad.  Shrinking  from  her  comrades,  with- 
out faith,  without  hope,  adrift,  with  the  figure 

305 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

of  Charlotte  Corday  ever  before  her,  tormented 
with  the  thought  of  martyrdom,  she  followed 
Javogues,  restlessly  keeping  him  under  her  eye, 
seeking  him  with  an  instinctive  impulse  that 
gradually  and  fearfully  shaped  itself  in  her 
resolution. 

The  streets  where  she  wandered  were  filled 
with  barbaric  processions  from  the  sack  of  the 
churches.  Unshaven  heads  crowned  with  gor- 
geous miters,  ragged  bodies  clothed  in  purple 
'  robes,  smudgy  arms  brandishing  golden  chalices, 
crucifixes,  and  relics  swept  by  with  exultant, 
mocking  chorus.  In  the  churchyards  troops  of 
beggars  demolished  monuments  and  leveled  the 
tombs,  while  still  others  beheaded  the  stone 
images  in  the  niches  of  the  doors. 

Toward  night  the  lowest  elements  of  the 
social  order  were  unchained.  The  drunkards, 
the  thieves,  the  idiots,  the  pariahs,  the  beggars, 
the  destitute,  the  morbidly  curious,  the  shrews, 
the  hags,  the  harlots;  all  who  hated  the  good 
and  many  who  had  been  taught  to  regard  reli- 
gion as  the  shackles  that  fastened  them  to  servi- 
tude, erupted  into  the  night,  to  mock  the  Church 
and  dishonor  it. 

Listless,  troubled,  and  uneasy,  through  the 
demented  city  Nicole  continued  her  search, 
stopping  neither  for  lunch  nor  for  supper,  sort- 
306 


LA   F&TE  DE   LA  RAISON 

ing, without  success,  each  successive  throng,  while 
every  scene  of  license  and  sacrilege  that  inflamed 
her  anger  steadied  her  resolve. 

In  the  church  of  St.  Gervais  she  stopped,  ap- 
palled at  the  riot.  Within,  shrieks  of  laughter 
mingled  with  hoarse  shouts  of  men  and  the 
surging  rhythm  of  music.  Horror  and  rage  pos- 
sessed her,  and  she  plunged  in,  seeking  Ja- 
vogues,  while  her  hand  went  nervously  to  her 
breast. 

The  church  was  dim  with  the  smoky  glim- 
mer of  lamps,  which  veiled  the  interior  in  a 
mantle  of  fog.  The  fishwives  from  the  Marche 
St.  Jean  offered  salted  herrings  to  all  comers, 
poisoning  the  air  and  disgusting  the  nostrils, 
while  on  their  track  followed  limonadiers  with 
overtopping  tanks,  rattling  their  cups  and  hawk- 
ing their  beverage. 

In  the  Chapel  of  the  Virgin  a  hundred  couples 
were  dancing,  bumping  into  one  another,  hilari- 
ous with  wine  and  hoarse  with  shouting;  while 
above  the  carnival,  enthroned  on  the  altar,  a 
blue  and  white  Goddess  of  Reason,  a  girl  of 
fifteen,  watched  the  rout,  arranging  her  scarlet 
liberty-cap  or  extending  her  hand  with  con- 
scious smiles  to  those  who  acclaimed  her. 

Among  these  women  whirling  with  closed 
eyes  and  tumbled  hair,  among  the  reeling  men, 

307 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

Nicole  glided  until  satisfied  that  the  Marseillais 
was  absent ;  then  she  left  the  unholy  halls  and 
ran,  panting,  to  St.  Eustache. 

There,  inside  the  entrance,  the  uproar  halted 
her,  and  she  remained,  in  bewilderment,  gazing 
down  the  enormous  length,  asking  herself  if  her 
senses  had  departed. 

The  great  vista  was  transformed  into  a 
country-side ;  at  her  elbow  were  rustic  huts  and 
clumps  of  trees,  while  in  the  distance,  hidden 
under  the  foliage  of  thickets,  rose  mounds  that 
echoed  to  the  creaking  of  planks  under  the  rush 
of  feet.  Suddenly  a  hand  caught  her  arm  and 
Dossonville's  voice  cried : 

"  Nicole,  are  you  mad ! " 

Angry  at  this  interruption  to  her  plans,  she 
turned  with  a  gesture  of  impatience;  but  Dos- 
sonville,  without  relinquishing  his  grasp,  con- 
tinued sternly: 

"  You  cannot  stay,  you  cannot ! " 

"  I  am  going  to." 

The  next  moment  some  one  seized  her  by  the 
waist;  she  turned  with  a  scream.  It  was  Cra- 
moisin  who,  unaware  of  her  identity,  had  caught 
her. 

At  the  sight  of  Nicole  he  relaxed  his  hold,  in 
such  utter  terror  that  he  stumbled  and  fell  on 
his  back,  when  a  band  of  women  seized  him  by 
308 


LA   F£TE  DE  LA   RAISON 

the  arms  and  legs  and  bore  him  raging  into  the 
crowd. 

"Diable!"  Dossonville  muttered  to  himself. 
"  If  the  beast  recognized  me,  I  am  done  for." 
Then  taking  the  girl's  arm,  he  repeated :  "  Ni- 
cole, you  cannot  remain ;  it  is  impossible." 

"  I  can  protect  myself,"  she  said  savagely. 

"Nicole  —  " 

"  I  must  stay ! " 

In  a  moment  Dossonville  guessed  something  of 
her  design,  and  withdrawing  a  step,  said  sternly: 

"  Whom  are  you  seeking  ?  " 

"No  one." 

"  You  are  meditating  something  desperate." 

"No." 

"  You  will  not  come  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  impatiently. 

"  Then  my  life  is  in  your  hands ;  I  will  not 
leave  you." 

Satisfied  with  this  solution,  that  offered  her  a 
certain  protection,  Nicole  inclined  her  head,  and 
caring  little  how  far  she  betrayed  herself  to  him, 
hastened  feverishly  into  the  throng.  The  loath- 
ing and  hatred  which  communicated  itself  to 
her  body  banished  all  other  senses;  her  breast 
rose  tumultuously,  her  forehead  grew  ugly  with 
anger,  while  her  restless  eyes  beheld  the  satur- 
nalia without  comprehension. 

3°9 


IN   THE  NAME   OF  LIBERTY 

Silently  she  dragged  him  about  the  great 
space.  On  the  altars  of  the  chapels  were  spilled 
bouquets  and  bottles  of  wine  pell-mell  with  sau- 
sages, pates,  vegetables,  and  meats.  A  score  of 
hands  clutched  the  food,  scattering  it  over  the 
steps,  splashing  the  altars  with  the  red  stains 
of  wine.  The  people  gorged,  drank,  embraced, 
and  fell  sprawling;  while  at  times,  with  a 
drunken  cheer,  some  one  in  the  tangle  would 
hurl  a  sausage  or  a  ball  of  dripping  bread  at  the 
statues  and  portraits  above,  crying : 

"  There  's  for  you,  ci-devant  Virgin  !  " 

"Eat  a  little  and  become  a  good  republican!" 

Out  of  the  scramble,  boys  and  girls  were 
thrust  forward  to  plunge  their  tiny  hands  into 
the  food  in  sign  of  liberty,  while  bottles  of  wine, 
snatched  from  the  famished  lips  of  beggars, 
were  held  out  to  them,  until  in  their  intoxica- 
tion they  furnished  amusement  to  the  ribald 
crowd. 

"  Pass  on,  pass  on,"  cried  Nicole. 

A  rush  of  women  brushed  them  against  the 
wall.  In  the  procession  were  tossing  a  dozen 
statues  capped  with  liberty-bonnets.  In  front 
of  them,  a  woman,  leaping  forward,  embraced  a 
statue  in  her  arms  and  bore  it  crashing  to  the 
floor. 

At  the  next  chapel,  Dossonville  felt  a  sudden 
310 


LA   F£TE   DE   LA   RAISON 

tension  on  his  arm.  Within,  a  band  of  madmen 
and  crazy  women  were  performing  a  mockery  of 
a  mass.  Before  a  half-naked  girl  in  stupor  on 
the  altar  Boudgoust  was  kneeling,  while  Jam- 
bony,  insolent  and  sneering,  swung  a  chain  of 
sausages  to  and  fro  as  censers. 

Below  the  figure  of  the  Goddess  of  Reason  had 
been    placed    a    hastily   constructed    guillotine, 
which  Boudgoust  elevated  and  replaced,  pouring 
over  it  a  libation  of  red  wine,  announcing  : 
"  The  blood  of  aristocrats  we  offer  thee  ! " 
Then  turning,  he  led  the  uproarious  congrega- 
tion, crouching  below,  in  a  litany  : 

"St.  Guillotine,  protector  of  patriots,  pray  for  us. 
St.  Guillotine,  terror  of  aristocrats,  protect  us. 
Lovely  machine,  have  pity  on  us. 
Admirable  machine,  have  pity  on  us. 
St.  Guillotine,  deliver  us  of  our  enemies!  " 

"Pass  on,  pass  on,"  Nicole  cried,  after  the 
unavailing  search. 

"  If  it  is  not  they,  it  is  Javogues,"  thought 
Dossonville,  who  had  been  wondering  whom  she 
was  seeking. 

They  left  the  chapels  and  emerged  into  the 
aisle,  where  no  sound  predominated  and  every- 
thing was  heard ;  where  it  seemed  that  Hell, 
having  overturned  Heaven,  was  struggling  to 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

annihilate    itself    in   the    need    of  venting    its 
wickedness. 

For  a  moment  Nicole  forgot  herself,  aghast 
at  the  frenzy  of  her  kind.  She  raised  her  eyes 
in  terror  to  the  deep  vaults  stretching  upward 
undisturbed,  serene  and  awful,  as  though  from 
the  dim  regions,  which  in  her  childhood  she  had 
peopled  with  visions,  the  avenging  thunderbolt 
was  about  to  smite  the  scoffers. 

On  every  side  the  shouts  grew  wilder.  Vile 
women,  dropping  the  mask  of  their  sex,  pur- 
sued men  in  long,  haggard,  furious  lines  over  the 
artificial  mounds  that  groaned  under  the  chase. 
The  half-naked  figure  of  Cramoisin  appeared, 
surrounded  by  bacchantes,  exhorting  the  crowd 
to  return  to  the  primitive  innocence.  Forms 
meaningless  and  confused  flitted,  whirled,  reeled 
before  them  in  an  unending  danse  Macabre, 
while  mingled  with  the  tempest  came  the  ever- 
exultant  shout : 

"  Vive  la  Raison !     Vive  la  Raison ! " 

Suddenly,  by  the  catch  of  her  breath  and  by 
the  involuntary  "  Ah !  "  Dossonville  knew  that 
Nicole  had  found  Javogues. 

Without  awaiting  her  leap,  he  hurled  himself 
on  her  and  bore  her  back  into  a  thicket,  strug- 
gling and  pleading  and  burying  her  teeth  in  the 
hand  that  muffled  her  screams.  Then  when  the 

312 


LA   F&TE   DE   LA   RAISON 

mad  struggles  had  snapped  the  bonds  of  con- 
sciousness, he  picked  her  up  in  his  arms  and 
bore  her  quickly  out  through  the  unbridled  mob, 
who  broke  into  applause,  believing  her  overcome 
with  drunkenness. 


3J3 


AS    DID    CHARLOTTE    CORDAY 

BEHIND  Dossonville  the  riot  and  the  tu- 
mult fell  to  a  whisper ;  the  titanic  upheaval 
ended  with  the  walls.  Above,  the  night  was 
solemn  and  gentle,  and  the  Seine,  toward  which 
he  bore  Nicole,  unconscious  of  the  revolt,  flowed 
with  the  serenity  of  ages.  Depositing  the  girl 
on  a  bench,  he  busied  himself  with  recalling  her 
to  the  quiet  world. 

When  consciousness  returned,  it  was  by  flashes 
where  the  incoherent  words,  jumbled  and  wild, 
showed  she  was  still  in  the  saturnalia,  preparing 
to  spring  at  the  hated  figure  of  the  Marseillais. 
Fearing  that  her  cries  would  attract  a  crowd, 
Dossonville  shook  her.  She  opened  her  eyes, 
saw  him,  and  sat  up,  seeking  to  assemble  her 
thoughts.  Then  a  groan  escaped  her  as  memory 
returned. 

"  Ah,  my  friend,"  she  said  pitifully,  "  why  did 
you  stop  me  ?  It  was  the  moment." 

She  put  down  her  feet,  smoothed  her  dress, 

3H 


AS   DID  CHARLOTTE   CORDAY 

and  stood  up,  while  Dossonville,  rising,  said  per- 
emptorily: 

"  Where  are  you  going  now  ?  " 

"  Home.  Give  me  your  arm.  You  were  too 
strong;  I  am  tired." 

"Nicole,"  Dossonville  began,  in  the  hope  of 
diverting  her  mood,  "let  us  reason  a  little.  That 
is  not  the  Revolution :  that  is  the  scum.  Judge 
it  not  by  that." 

"You  say  that,"  she  answered  wearily  — 
"  you  ?  " 

"Aye,  the  Revolution  has  proved  too  im- 
mense, and  the  leaders  too  weak.  It  has  rolled 
over  them ;  but  the  world  is  its  path,  and  time 
will  right  it." 

But  Nicole,  despite  all  his  artifices,  refused  to 
say  another  word  until  in  the  Rue  Maugout  he 
cried  sternly  : 

"  Nicole,  what  do  you  intend  to  do  ?  " 

"  Is  that  so  difficult  to  guess  *?  " 

"Nicole!  You  are  not  going  to  take  your 
life!" 

"  My  life  ?  "  she  answered,  shaking  her  head. 
"  That  is  all  that  is  left  to  me  to  use." 

"  Javogues's  ?  " 

She  took  his  hands,  smiling,  and  said : 

"  To-night  I  was  mad  and  you  could  stop  me ; 
now  I  am  calm  and  you  can  do  nothing.  Good 

3*5 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

night.  Forgive  me  if  I  have  endangered  your 
life.  Good  night,  my  friend,  good  night." 

From  the  profound  sleep  of  exhaustion  Nicole, 
the  next  morning,  struggled  to  open  her  eyes  with 
the  echo  of  Goursac's  name  sounding  in  her  ears. 

"  Nicole  !    He,  Citoyenne  Nicole  !  " 

She  rushed  to  the  window,  and,  leaning  far  out, 
beheld  below  in  the  misty  court  the  abhorrent 
figures  of  the  three  Tapedures.  At  her  appear- 
ance they  sent  up  the  exultant  shout :  "  Goursac 
dies  to-day ! " 

"  To-day,"  she  repeated  dully,  watching  their 
departure  without  emotion. 

It  was  still  early,  and  the  weak  sun,  filtering 
through  the  fogs  of  the  November  morning, 
cast  yellow  shadows  where  shadows  showed 
at  all.  Silent  and  calm,  the  girl  withdrew  and 
began  to  dress.  Within  her  soul  the  torment  of 
the  last  days  had  given  place  to  quiet.  What 
she  had  recoiled  from  doing  as  an  individual 
now  appeared  easy  to  her  as  the  instrument  of  a 
high  vengeance.  In  her  now  were  the  revolt  of 
womanhood,  the  anger  of  the  Christian,  and  the 
resolution  of  a  Charlotte  Corday,  which  is  the 
resolution  of  a  people. 

Slowly  and  with  great  care  she  dressed,  exam- 
ining herself  often,  selecting  her  best  attire,  and 
316 


AS   DID   CHARLOTTE   CORDAY 

as  she  dressed  she  began  to  sing,  wondering  the 
while  that  she  could  feel  so  light-hearted.  From 
the  bureau  she  took  her  dagger  and  a  ring  that 
Barabant  had  left,  slipping  it  on  her  finger,  saying 
wistfully : 

"Poor  Barabant.  I  might  have  betrayed  you. 
Ah,  I  shall  make  reparation." 

In  the  elevation  of  her  soul  he  seemed  very 
distant,  and  the  room  of  her  happiness,  as  she 
paused  meditatively,  unreal  and  no  more  a  part 
of  her  life.  She  went  to  the  bed  and  knelt,  clos- 
ing her  eyes  and  stretching  up  her  clasped  hands. 
Suddenly  she  took  the  dagger  from  her  breast 
and  placed  it  as  a  cross  before  her,  fastening  her 
eyes  upon  it  as  her  lips  repeated  her  prayers. 

She  rose,  passed  out  of  the  room,  and  without 
a  tremor  descended  the  stairs.  But  at  Goursac's 
landing  the  sound  of  voices  below  compelled 
her  to  halt  and  withdraw  into  the  room.  In  the 
turning  her  skirt  caught  on  a  splinter  and  was 
torn. 

"  Ah,  what  a  misfortune ! "  she  said  to  herself, 
unconscious  of  the  incongruity  of  her  words. 
"  My  best  skirt,  too." 

Her  mind,  before  the  immense  decision,  took 
refuge  in  trifles.  She  sought  a  pin  and  occupied 
herself  with  hiding  the  rent,  while  from  time  to 
time  she  exclaimed  impatiently: 

31? 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"  They  are  taking  a  long  time  ! " 

Unable  to  remain  still,  she  passed  out  to  the 
landing,  whence,  fancying  that  she  had  detected 
the  name  of  Barabant,  she  stole  down  the  steps 
as  far  as  the  turn  would  permit,  shrinking  against 
the  dark  walls.  Almost  immediately  the  door 
opened  and  the  voice  of  Javogues  said  : 

"He  shall  not  escape,.!  promise  it!  Within 
three  days  Barabant  shall  look  through  the  little 
window  of  Mother  Guillotine  ! " 

"But  how  '11  you  find  him?"  replied  the 
querulous  voice  of  la  Mere  Corniche.  "  Some 
one  has  transferred  him  from  the  Luxembourg." 

"Never  fear.  I  '11  search  the  prisons  and 
drag  him  out,  in  spite  of  all  the  Dossonvilles  in 
Paris." 

"But  when?" 

"  This  morning.  There,  will  that  satisfy  you, 
old  patriot  ?  " 

A  grunt  came  for  all  reply,  and  the  next 
moment  the  ascending  flight  creaked  with  the 
weight  of  the  concierge. 

Nicole,  thus  threatened  with  immediate  dis- 
covery, seized  her  dagger  in  a  desperate  resolve, 
but  the  advance  stopped  and  the  voice  of  la 
Mere  Corniche  whispered : 

"  Nicole  has  gone  out,  has  n't  she  ?  " 

"  No,  she  is  above." 

3>8 


AS   DID   CHARLOTTE   CORDAY 

"Then  it  is. better  to  wait." 

To  the  inexpressible  relief  of  the  trembling 
girl,  the  old  woman  turned  and  descended. 
Left  in  security,  Nicole  resumed  her  composure. 
Without  fear  of  failure,  without  once  debating 
the  means  she  should  employ,  confident  that  all 
that  was  essential  was  to  be  in  the  presence  of 
the  tyrant,  she  descended,  entering  the  room  so 
softly  that  Javogues  turned  with  a  startled : 

"Who  Js  that?" 

"  Nicole." 

"  What  are  you  stealing  in  like  a  cat  for  *?  " 

"  I  have  come  to  speak  with  you." 

"  Speak." 

"  Why  do  you  persecute  Barabant*?" 

"  He  is  a  traitor  !  " 

"  But  he  said  he  was  not  a  Girondin." 

"  He  lied." 

"  But  what  is  his  offense  ?  " 

"  He  would  show  mercy  to  the  aristocrats." 

"  Mercy !  "  she  cried.  *'  Have  you  forgotten 
to  whom  you  owe  your  life  ?  You  did  not  scorn 
his  mercy ! " 

Instead  of  the  expected  explosion,  Javogues, 
without  resentment,  replied : 

"  Because  I  remembered  that  I  did  not  listen 
when  they  told  me  Barabant  was  contre-revolu- 
tionnaire.  I  have  done  a  great  wrong :  I  consid- 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

ered  myself  instead  of  the  Nation."  He  rose  with 
the  glance  of  the  fanatic.  "  Yes,  I  am  guilty  —  I, 
Javogues !  But  I  will  denounce  myself.  If  the 
Nation  decides  that  I  must  be  punished,  let  my 
head  warn  others  against  moderation  !  " 

"Javogues,"  cried  Nicole,  recoiling,  "have  you 
not  a  drop  of  human  blood  in  you  *?  Have  you 
pity  for  nothing  ?  Does  not  the  sight  of  all  the 
blood  spilled  on  the  guillotine  satisfy  you  ?  " 

"  Satisfy  me  ?  "  he  laughed.  He  elevated  his 
arms,  repeating  it  with  a  clap  of  laughter.  "  That 
little  pool  of  blood  satisfy  me  ?  Only  an  inunda- 
tion can  purify  France.  Twenty  executions  a 
day  would  not  satisfy  me.  The  guillotine  is  too 
merciful  for  traitors.  I  would  drown  them  by 
hundreds — these  aristocrats  —  these  rich — these 
Moderates  who  have  crushed  us  for  ages.  If 
those  we  smite  are  not  guilty,  their  fathers  were  ! 
We  must  be  revenged  on  the  ages." 

Then  addressing  Nicole  furiously,  he  cried : 
"  See  here,  my  girl ;  if  you  talk  of  moderation, 
you  '11  go,  too ! " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Then  sud- 
denly, from  below,  she  heard  the  voice  of  Dos- 
sonville  calling: 

"Nicole!     Ho,  Nicole!" 

Without  was  life ;  within  the  dim  room,  mar- 
tyrdom. 

320 


AS   DID   CHARLOTTE   CORDAY 

"  Then  you  think,"  she  said,  looking  down, 
"  that  Barabant  is  guilty  ?  " 

"  He  shall  die !  " 

She  was  smiling  with  a  deceitful  smile  as  she 
answered : 

"  You  are  perhaps  right.  Moderation  is  wrong. 
We  have  suffered  much." 

"  Well  said ! "  Javogues  cried.  "  There  speaks 
the  patriot." 

"  Nicole  !  Nicole,  come  down ! "  cried  the 
voice  without. 

"It  is  that  traitor  Dossonville,"  Nicole  said, 
still  smiling.  "  He  does  not  know  that  Goursac 
is  to  die  to-day.  Call  it  down  to  him.  That 
will  enrage  him." 

With  a  gleam  of  joy,  Javogues  turned  to  the 
window;  but  before  he  had  made  two  steps, 
Nicole,  bounding  forward,  buried  her  dagger  be- 
tween the  vast  shoulders.  The  hands  went  franti- 
cally into  the  air,  a  hideous  sound  choked  in  the 
throat,  and,  spinning  around,  the  great  bulk 
tottered  and  collapsed  at  her  feet.  A  mo- 
ment before  was  martyrdom,  now  nothing  but 
horror. 

Hysterical,  panic-stricken,  holding  out  her  hand 
before  her, — the  hand  that  bore  the  curse  of  blood, 
—  the  girl  fled  from  the  room,  shrieking: 

"  I  have  killed  him  !  " 
321 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

At  each  flight,  shivering  as  though  the  specter 
pursued,  she  repeated : 

"  I  have  killed  him  !     I  have  killed  him  !  " 

She  rushed  from  the  doorway  into  the  court, 
haggard,  stretching  away  the  accusing  hand,  and 
streaked  across  the  court  into  the  arms  of  Dos- 
sonville,  screaming  always  : 

"  I  have  killed  him  ! " 

Above,  the  face  of  Javogues,  purple  and  chok- 
ing, appeared  a  moment  at  the  window,  and  fell 
back,  crying: 

"  Help !     Help ! " 

From  the  four  walls  the  windows  put  forth 
frightened  heads.  Two  or  three  half-dressed  fig- 
ures came  tumbling  into  the  court.  But  Dosson- 
ville,  seizing  the  maddened  girl,  rushed  her  away 
through  the  passage  and  up  the  street  before  the 
startled  lodgers  could  divine  what  had  happened. 


322 


UNRELENTING    IN    DEATH 

PLACING  Nicole  in  safety  in  the  Maison 
Talaru,  a  privileged  jail,  of  which  the 
keeper,  Schmidt,  was  his  friend,  Dossonville,  pick- 
ing up  Le  Corbeau  and  Sans-Chagrin,  returned  to 
the  court,  now  packed  with  excited  women. 
Forcing  his  way  through  the  press,  heedless  of 
questions,  he  mounted  the  stairs,  to  find  the  room 
of  the  Marseillais  black  with  the  curious  crowd, 
who  shouted  advice  or  sobbed  hysterically  as 
they  strove  forward.  Raising  his  voice,  Dosson- 
ville thundered: 

"  Silence ! " 

There  was  a  lull,  and  a  hasty  turning  of 
heads. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Nation  I  summon  all 
citoyens  to  depart !  The  Nation  takes  posses- 
sion." 

Then  followed  a  ludicrous  sidling,  shifting 
rush  for  the  door  as  each,  fearing  to  be  marked 
for  arrest,  strove  to  depart  unnoticed.  All  at 

323 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

once  the  long  arm  of  Dossonville  shot  out  and 
barred  the  way. 

"  Remain ! " 

Boudgoust  fell  back.  Again,  as  Cramoisin 
sought  to  escape  in  the  shelter  of  a  fat  woman, 
the  prohibition  rang  out : 

"  Remain ! " 

Jambony  next  presenting  himself,  the  arm  of 
Dossonville  again  denied  the  way.  In  the  room 
there  remained  at  last  but  the  wounded  man, 
unconscious  on  the  bed,  a  bundle  of  humanity 
crouching  at  the  head,  a  doctor,  and  the  three 
Tapedures  huddling  together  against  the  wall. 

From  the  doorway,  the  solemn  face  of  Le 
Corbeau  peered  in,  flanked  by  the  mocking  smirk 
of  Sans-Chagrin.  Dossonville,  master  of  the 
quiet  room,  strode  up  and  down  in  indecision, 
with  glowing  eyes  fastened  on  the  frightened 
three,  who  dared  not  meet  the  menace  of  his 
glance. 

After  five  minutes  of  this  torture,  during  which 
all  awaited  the  order  of  arrest,  Dossonville  sud- 
denly halted,  extended  his  hand,  and  cried : 

"  Pass  out ! " 

Sans-Chagrin,  fearing  to  misinterpret  the  com- 
mand, checked  the  foremost,  asking: 

"  Citoyen,  are  we  to  arrest  them  *?  " 

"  Not  now." 

324 


UNRELENTING   IN   DEATH 

Confident  that  the  menace  would  rid  the 
city  of  the  three,  Dossonville  turned  anxiously  to 
the  doctor. 

"  Well,  citoyen,  what 's  your  verdict  ?  " 

"Nothing  to  be  done." 

"  Will  he  regain  consciousness  ?" 

"  It  is  possible  —  probable." 

Dossonville  frowned. 

"How  long  will  he  live?" 

"  Not  beyond  the  day." 

Desiring  to  prevent  all  communication  with 
the  outer  world,  Dossonville  said,  with  a  quick 
resolve : 

"  Then  I  shall  be  forced  to  establish  a  guard. 
The  Citoyen  Javogues  is  under  arrest." 

Turning  to  Sans-Chagrin,  he  gave  orders  to 
allow  no  one  to  enter  —  a  command  which  had 
the  desired  effect  of  hastening  the  departure  of 
the  doctor.  Approaching  the  bed,  Dossonville 
became  aware  of  the  figure  at  its  side,  drooped 
over  an  arm  of  the  invalid  that  hung  down. 

"Mordieu  !  what 's  this  ?  "  he  cried;  and  placing 
his  hand  on  the  shoulder,  he  shook  it. 

The  bundle  resolved  itself  into  the  wild  figure 
of  a  girl. 

"Genevieve!" 

At  the  next  moment  the  girl,  recognizing  him, 
flew  at  him  with  a  cry  of  hatred.  Avoiding  the 

325 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

blind  rush,  Dossonville  caught  her  by  the  arm, 
crying : 

"  Eh,  Le  Corbeau,  take  her !  Sans-Chagrin,  go 
to  his  aid ! " 

Feeling  herself  overpowered,  the  girl  became 
suddenly  quiet,  calculating,  and  dissimulating; 
but  from  her  eyes  murder  looked  out. 

"  Take  her  below ! " 

The  wild  light  died  out  in  the  girl,  who,  burst- 
ing into  tears,  cried : 

"  No,  no !     Let  me  stay !     Let  me  stay ! " 

"  Diable  !  what  a  complication !  "  Dossonville 
thought.  Then,  aloud,  he  cried  roughly :  "  Im- 
possible !  She  must  go ! " 

Genevieve,  breaking  away,  clasped  his  knees, 
imploring  pity. 

"  Let  me  stay,  good,  kind  Dossonville.  See, 
I  kiss  your  hands.  I  '11  be  quiet.  Let  me 
stay.  I  love  him.  I  adore  him.  Don't  take  me 
away  from  him  now.  I  know  he  's  going  to  die. 
I  '11  be  quiet.  I  '11  bless  you." 

"  Stay,  then  !  "  Dossonville  cried  angrily.  "  I 
am  a  fool  to  do  it." 

The  girl,  released,  flew  to  the  bed  and  crouched 
down,  laying  her  cheek  against  the  shaggy  arm, 
while  the  big  eyes  looked  up  with  frightened, 
thankful  appeal. 

"  Go  and  eat," Dossonville  said,  turning  to  Sans- 
326 


UNRELENTING   IN   DEATH 

Chagrin  and  Le  Corbeau.  Accompanying  them 
to  the  hall,  he  added  in  a  whisper :  "  Mingle 
with  the  crowd;  convey  the  idea  of  an  assault. 
Nicole  was  defending  herself,  you  know.  Return 
in  an  hour." 

He  shut  the  door,  straddled  a  chair,  and  fold- 
ing his  arms  on  the  back,  with  a  glance  at  Gene- 
vieve,  who  continued  motionless,  entered  on  his 
vigil. 

In  the  room  the  only  sound  was  from  the 
troubled  breathing  of  the  wounded  man.  The 
girl  did  not  even  shift  her  head;  while  on  his 
chair  Dossonville,  like  a  statue  of  melancholy, 
waited  the  ebbing  of  life,  musing  at  this  end  to 
their  conflict,  marveling  the  while  at  the  strange 
antipathies  that  set  men  at  each  other's  throats 
from  their  first  glance. 

All  at  once  Javogues,  raising  himself  on  the 
bed,  opened  his  eyes  and  stared  at  Dossonville, 
who  matched  the  delirious  glance  with  a  quiet 
gaze.  Javogues,  without  deviating,  stared  stu- 
pidly, then  as  suddenly  fell  back  into  apparent 
insensibility  again;  while  Genevieve,  dragging 
her  body  along  the  floor,  wound  her  arms  about 
the  bull-neck  and  whispered  in  his  ear. 

Again  the  Marseillais  rose  and  fastened  his 
uncomprehending  stare  upon  Dossonville.  Sud- 
denly, extending  his  hand,  he  cried : 

327 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

«  Who  's'that  ?  " 

Falling  back,  he  almost  immediately  ex- 
claimed : 

"  It  's  Dossonville !  Ah,  Dossonville  !  Dos- 
sonville  !  Spy !  I  have  you  at  last ! " 

"  He  is  still  delirious,"  Dossonville  muttered, 
drawing  breath.  "  I  thought  he  saw  me." 

*'  I  know  it  by  the  look  in  his  eyes!"  Javogues 
cried  from  the  bed.  "  I  '11  not  give  my  hand  to 
a  spy  !  Boudgoust,  Cramoisin,  Jambony,  watch 
him,  follow  him!  Maillard,  if  he  is  acquitted,  I 
swear  I  '11  cut  his  throat ! " 

At  times  he  was  at  the  siege  of  the  Tuileries, 
again  in  the  court  of  the  Abbaye,  or  again  back 
in  the  cabaret  of  the  Bonnet  Rouge  on  the  night 
of  their  first  encounter.  The  flash  burned  itself 
out  again  and  he  dropped  into  further  insensibility. 

A  knock  was  heard  on  the  door.  Dossonville, 
shifting  slightly,  said : 

"  Come  in." 

Le  Corbeau  and  Sans-Chagrin  tiptoed  in  and, 
at  a  sign,  noiselessly  took  their  places  against  the 
wall.  Slight  as  was  the  interruption,  it  caught 
the  senses  of  the  wounded  man  and  seemed  to 
clear  his  vision.  He  opened  his  eyes  and  recog- 
nized the  room.  A  moment  he  remained  frown- 
ing ;  then,  turning  to  the  girl,  he  said  with  a  note 
of  tenderness: 


UNRELENTING   IN   DEATH 

"  Ah,  Genevieve  ! " 

A  sob  escaped  from  the  girl. 

"  What  's  the  matter  with  you  ? "  he  cried, 
but  immediately  added  :  "  Ah,  I  remember." 

Presently  he  said  roughly : 

"Tell  me,  child;  what  is  it*?"  Then,  as  the 
girl  buried  her  face  in  the  bed  to  choke  the  sobs, 
he  answered  himself:  "  It  is  death." 

His  eyes  fixed  themselves  on  the  foot  of  the 
bed,  and  a  great  breath  passed  through  his  body. 
Presently  a  movement  of  Sans-Chagrin's  crossed 
his  vision,  and  he  raised  his  glance  to  Dossonville. 

"  You  are  here  to  see  there  's  no  slip,"  he  said 
scornfully. 

"  Javogues,"  Dossonville  said  impulsively,  "I 
bear  you  no  hatred." 

"  But  I  do ! "  Javogues  cried  fiercely.  "  I  have 
never  compromised  with  you.  I  '11  not  do  it 
now."  Turning  to  Genevieve,  he  regarded  her 
a  moment,  and  then  said  softly :  "  Kiss  me, 
mignonne ;  I  know  you  love  me."  For  a  mo- 
ment pain  checked  his  breathing.  "Take  my 
hand.  That  's  it.  Don't  let  go  of  it." 

"  Javogues,  as  a  mere  formality,"  Dossonville 
broke  in,  "  do  you  wish  a  priest  *?  " 

"  A  priest !  Yes,  a  priest !  "  Javogues  cried, 
with  a  laugh  of  scorn.  "  Spy,  you  would  make 
me  out  a  hypocrite  ! " 

329 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

"  Man,  have  you  no  terror  of  God  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  God  !  "  With  the  cry,  the  Ja- 
vogues  of  the  mob  rose  up,  carrying  Genevieve 
to  her  feet. 

"  Have  you  no  doubts  ?  " 

"  Bah ! " 

"And  if  there  be  a  God?" 

"  And  if  there  be  a  God,  I  do  not  fear  him ! " 
he  cried;  and  in  the  Titan  the  unconquerable 
revolt  of  the  Jacobin  flamed  out.  "  If  there  be 
a  God,  he  shall  answer  to  me  for  what  he  has 
done !  In  the  name  of  the  slave  and  the  harlot, 
I  '11  accuse  him ;  in  the  name  of  the  galleys  and 
the  prison,  in  the  name  of  those  who  grind  out 
their  lives  with  the  labor  of  beasts,  in  the  name 
of  the  famished  and  the  leper,  in  the  name  of 
those  who  groan  under  kings  and  aristocrats, 
in  the  name  of  the  poor,  who  fight  for  breath,  for 
food,  for  sleep — in  the  name  of  all  misery,  I  '11 
accuse  him !  If  there  be  a  God,  he  shall  answer 
that!" 

The  effort  exhausted  him;  he  collapsed. 
The  listeners,  struck  with  terror  at  the  audacity 
of  the  atheist,  composed  themselves  with  long 
breaths. 

Dossonville  transferred  his  glance  to  Gene- 
vieve bending  over  the  hand  she  never  quitted. 
A  half-hour  passed  without  a  movement  from 

33° 


UNRELENTING   IN   DEATH 

the  girl.  It  began  to  grow  dark,  and  on  the 
quieter  air  the  sound  of  voices  reached  them. 

Suddenly  Dossonville,  waiting  patiently,  saw 
the  girl  raise  her  head  and  begin  to  rub  the  hand 
she  held.  Then  she  stopped,  sank  back,  and 
pressed  the  hand  against  her  heart. 

Presently  she  raised  her  head  and  gazed  in 
perplexity  at  Javogues.  She  half  rose,  and  drag- 
ging her  body  forward,  seized  the  head  between 
her  hands,  calling  anxiously  : 

"  Javogues,  Javogues  ! " 

Almost  immediately  she  recoiled,  bounding  to 
her  feet,  her  hands  to  her  temples,  staring  aghast, 
while  the  cry  was  torn  from  her  heart : 

"  He  's  dead  ! " 

With  a  scream  she  rushed  past  them  out  of 
the  room,  and  fled  down-stairs.  Dossonville, 
approaching  the  bed,  looked  down  upon  the 
body  that  was  Javogues's.  He  looked  and 
looked,  forgetting  all  else,  until  Sans-Chagrin 
impatiently  touched  his  arm.  Then,  with  a 
start,  he  came  to  himself  and  led  the  way  from 
the  empty  room. 


331 


XI 

NICOLE    FORGOES    THE    SACRIFICE 

^  I  ^HE  Maison  Talaru,  where  Dossonville  pre- 
A  sented  himself  the  next  day,  was  the 
strangest  of  all  the  strange  prisons  improvised  to 
suit  the  needs  of  the  Revolution.  Crowded  with 
aristocrats,  it  remained  unmolested,  thanks  to  the 
enormous  sums  its  lodgers  paid  for  their  security. 
In  return,  the  inmates  passed  the  time  in  agree- 
able intercourse,  gambling,  amusing  themselves, 
and  eating  well.  Schmidt,  the  jailer,  not  with- 
out a  touch  of  humor,  replaced  the  enormous 
dogs  which  attended  his  confreres  by  a  peaceable 
lamb,  whose  neck  and  feet,  decorated  with  pink 
bows,  never  failed  to  reassure  the  new  arrivals. 

Placed  in  his  lucrative  position  by  the  aid  of 
Dossonville,  Schmidt  had  nothing  to  refuse  his 
protector;  but,  as  he  was  at  bottom  avaricious, 
he  met  him  with  an  anxious  query  as  to  the 
probable  duration  of  Nicole's  stay. 

"What  difference  can  that  make  to  you?" 
Dossonville  replied. 

332 


NICOLE  FORGOES   THE   SACRIFICE 

"  The  fact  is,  citoyen,"  Schmidt  began  cau- 
tiously, "  the  citoyenne  has  a  room  to  herself,  at 
your  request,  which  brings  me  in  eighteen  livres 
a  day,  which  makes  five  hundred  and  forty  livres 
a  month,  which  makes  six  thousand  six  hundred 
livres  a  year.  It  's  a  good  sum." 

"  Mordieu !  what  gratitude  you  must  bear  me, 
my  friend ! " 

"  Yes,  yes ! "  the  jailer  hastened  to  say,  but 
with  a  doubtful  inflection.  "  The  ci-devant  Mar- 
quis of  Talaru  has  only  a  little  office,  and  he 
pays  that  price." 

"But  he  is  the  proprietor,  I  thought?" 

*'  He  rented  the  place  to  the  section  for  six 
thousand  six  hundred  livres." 

"  The  price  you  charge  him  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Good !  So  he  pays  you  back,  for  the  privi- 
lege of  remaining  a  prisoner  in  his  own  home, 
the  amount  of  your  rent.  Excellent !  And  they 
say  we  republicans  are  lacking  in  wit !  As  for 
you,  citoyen,  reassure  yourself;  the  Citoyenne 
Nicole  is  here  but  temporarily." 

"  Eh,  she  can  stay  as  long  as  she  wants," 
Schmidt  said  hastily,  with  an  eye  to  future 
patronage.  "  I  only  wanted  you  to  know  that  I 
have  gratitude." 

"And  its  extent,"  Dossonville  replied  with  a 

333 


IN   THE   NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

smile.  "  Lead  the  way  with  your  lamb.  Did  the 
citoyenne  remain  quiet'?  Did  she  eat  anything?" 

"A  nothing  —  a  sip  and  a  nibble." 

Somewhat  apprehensive  at  this  symptom,  Dos- 
sonville  approached  her  room  and  entered  with  a 
hearty  "  Well,  and  how  goes  it  ?  " 

Nicole,  still  exalted  and  intense,  without  reply- 
ing, came  forward,  questioning  him  with  a  glance. 

"  Reassure  yourself,  Nicole ;  everything  is  for 
the  best,"  he  said.  Then,  unable  to  meet  the 
persistent  search  of  her  eyes,  he  admitted  grudg- 
ingly: "Javogues  is  dead." 

She  inclined  her  head. 

"  When  you  kill  a  man,  you  know  it.  There 
is  an  intuition.  What  do  they  say  of  me  ?  " 

"Everything  turned  out  miraculously,"  Dos- 
sonville  answered  joyfully.  "  My  men  were  on 
guard.  No  one  entered.  Javogues  did  not  be- 
tray you.  The  belief  is  that  you  stabbed  him  to 
save  yourself."  Without  noticing  the  revolt  in 
her  eyes,  he  continued  eagerly :  "  You  are  in  no 
danger.  I  have  routed  the  Tapedures  for  the 
present.  In  a  week  I  '11  transfer  you  to  the 
Madelonnettes,  where  I  have  Barabant  safely 
tucked  away.  There  you  can  wait  until  the  tide 
sets  against  the  Terrorists,  and  — " 

He  stopped,  perceiving  his  blunder,  while 
Nicole,  smiling  a  little  at  his  confusion,  said , 

334 


NICOLE   FORGOES   THE   SACRIFICE 

"  Why  do  you  stop  ?  " 

As  he  began  again  lamely,  she  interrupted : 

"  No,  Dossonville,  you  see  as  well  as  I  that  it 
cannot  be.  Why  does  every  one  wish  to  save 
me?" 

"  I  do  not  understand." 

"  Yes,  Dossonville,  you  do,  and  you  see  your 
mistake.  You  would  make  me  out  a  murderess. 
I  am  not  a  murderess.  I  gave  my  life  to  the 
Nation  in  exchange  for  Javogues's.  I  killed  him 
to  save  Barabant,  to  save  a  hundred  others  who 
would  perish  if  he  had  lived.  As  a  patriot,  I 
killed  him  to  deliver  the  Nation  of  a  monster. 
Only  my  life  can  justify  the  deed.  Don't  you 
see  *? "  She  took  his  hands  in  hers,  saying : 
"  Dear  friend,  bring  me  before  the  tribunal  and  I 
will  bless  you." 

"  And  Barabant  ?  "  Dossonville  said  desper- 
ately. 

She  shook  her  head.  In  her  present  exalta- 
tion all  that  seemed  like  another  life  which  she 
had  renounced  for  martyrdom. 

"  And  Barabant  ?  "  repeated  Dossonville. 

"Tell  him  I  did  it  to  save  him.  He  will 
venerate  my  memory."  She  added  slowly: 
"  Then  I  will  hold  a  place  in  his  heart  that  no 
woman  can  ever  take.  That  will  be  for  the 
best." 

335 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"Nicole,  listen  to  me,"  cried  Dossonville. 
"  Listen,  for  what  I  say  is  true.  Denounce  your- 
self, and  you  will  drag  Barabant  to  his  death. 
Once  admit  your  reasons  for  killing  Javogues, 
and  Barabant  dies  as  your  accomplice." 

"Oh,  oh!" 

Recoiling  before  this  immense,  inexorable  ob- 
stacle to  her  purpose,  Nicole  fell  to  her  knees, 
imploring  him  with  her  hands : 

"  No,  no,  Dossonville,  you  are  telling  me  that 
to  save  me." 

"  Yes,  to  save  you ;  but  it  is  true.  Decide  for 
yourself,  but  your  confession  sends  to  the  guillo- 
tine every  friend  you  have  ! " 

"  Dossonville !  Dossonville !  You  are  plung- 
ing a  dagger  into  my  heart ! " 

"  Listen,  Nicole;  I  swear  to  you  it  is  the  truth," 
he  said,  raising  her  from  the  floor  to  a  chair. 
"  Denounce  yourself  now,  nothing  can  save  him. 
I  say  no  more ;  decide  for  yourself." 

Leaving  her  limp  with  despair,  he  departed, 
well  satisfied  that  the  leaven  would  work  and  that 
time  and  reflection  would  temper  her  resolve. 

The  next  day,  instead  of  returning,  Dosson- 
ville sought  out  Barabant,  obtaining  from  the 
frantic  lover  a  letter  to  Nicole,  which  he  had 
delivered  by  the  medium  of  Schmidt.  Each  day, 

336 


NICOLE  FORGOES   THE   SACRIFICE 

ignoring  the  demands  the  girl  sent  him  by  the 
jailer,  Dossonville  repeated  the  same  tactics,  con- 
fident in  the  power  of  lovers'  logic  to  sway  her 
finally. 

One  misfortune  disturbed  his  triumph.  On 
the  day  following  Javogues's  death,  Louison  in- 
formed him  of  the  execution  of  Goursac.  Dos- 
sonville, who  from  his  fruitless  efforts  to  save  the 
Girondin  had  retained  a  deep  sentiment  of  admira- 
tion for  him,  was  much  affected  by  the  news,  and 
yielding  to  his  anger,  scoured  the  city  for  traces 
of  the  three  Tapedures.  But  despite  the  most 
diligent  search  in  cafe,  market,  and  boulevard, 
not  a  sign  nor  an  echo  could  he  find  of  the  former 
despots. 

On  the  ninth  day  of  Nicole's  imprisonment, 
Schmidt  handed  him  a  word  from  the  girl,  prom- 
ising to  reason  over  the  decision.  But  Dosson- 
ville, though  encouraged,  divined  that  she  would 
meet  him  with  fresh  arguments,  and  absented 
himself,  until  at  the  end  of  a  week  he  received  a 
second  message : 

"  I  renounce.      Come." 

Then,  satisfied,  he  mounted  to  her  room,  grum- 
bling to  himself: 

"Mordieu!  one  can't  talk  forever  of  dying 
when  one  is  young  and  is  loved ! " 

337 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

To  his  alarm,  she  received  him  without  protes- 
tations, while  her  eyes,  as  they  regarded  him  sadly, 
conceded  the  victory,  but  reproached  him  for  the 
means. 

"  I  must  see  him,"  she  said  simply.  "  Take 
me  to  him." 

"What  then*?"  Dossonville  questioned,  sus- 
picious of  her  calm. 

"  I  will  do  nothing  to  endanger  his  life." 

"It  is  a  promise?" 

"  I  promise  to  do  nothing  that  will  endanger 
his  life,"  she  repeated  carefully. 

"  She  is  still  determined  to  sacrifice  herself,"  he 
thought.  "  Mordieu  !  what  an  idea !  Barabant 
will  make  her  forget." 

That  night,  toward  eleven,  he  conducted  the 
girl  to  Les  Madelonnettes  and  restored  her  to  Bara- 
bant. Only  the  lantern  of  the  jailer  lighted  the 
sleeping  halls  as  Nicole,  with  a  cry,  flew  to  her 
lover's  arms.  In  their  happiness  they  forgot  their 
protector ;  but  Dossonville,  well  content,  with- 
drew, drawing  after  him  the  guard. 

"You  seem  different,"  Barabant  said  at  last. 
"What  is  it?" 

"  I  have  been  away  from  you." 

"How  could  you  think  of  sacrificing  your- 
self? "  he  said  reproachfully. 

"  I  was  away  from  you,"  she  repeated. 

338 


NICOLE   FORGOES   THE   SACRIFICE 

"You  are  here  as  my  wife,"  he  whispered. 
"  Citoyenne  Barabant,  you  understand  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

"  But  what  is  the  matter  ?    Why  do  you  cry  ?  " 
"  It  is  from  joy,"  she  said. 

Then  for  the  two  prisoners  began  that  weary 
cycle  of  the  prisons,  days  so  incredible  that  even 
those  who  survived  looked  back  to  them,  doubt- 
ing their  memory.  Everything  became  monot- 
onous ;  scenes  of  heart-rending  grief,  partings  of 
mothers  and  children,  husbands  torn  from  their 
wives,  the  experience  of  every  day  cloyed  in  the 
lassitude  that  came  from  too  much  suffering. 
Toward  six  in  the  afternoon  they  assembled  in 
the  main  halls,  listening  at  first  with  faltering 
courage,  and  then  with  indifference,  to  the  turn- 
key reading  the  list  of  those  summoned  to  the 
bar  of  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal. 

The  accused  passed  out,  sullen,  resigned, 
hoping,  trusting  to  a  straw,  indifferent,  tired, 
and  their  names  were  heard  no  more  until  the  fol- 
lowing day,  when  a  turnkey,  with  brutal  exulta- 
tion, read  the  list  of  those  who  had  perished  on 
the  guillotine. 

A  shriek,  a  sob,  a  curse,  perhaps,  would  be 
heard,  a  sudden  converging  where  a  woman  had 
fallen  unconscious;  but  the  rest  stolidly,  dully, 

339 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

counted  the  hours  to  the  next  summons.  New 
arrivals,  the  daily  papers,  an  occasional  letter, 
brought  them  news  of  the  fantastic,  heaving  outer 
world.  It  was  JFrimaire,  with  tales  of  the  drown- 
ings  at  Nantes  —  republican  marriages,  where 
man  and  woman,  tied  together,  were  thrown  into 
the  river  with  brutal  jests;  Ventose,  with  its  in- 
credible news  that  Hebert,  the  savage  Pere  Du- 
chesne,  and  the  bull-dogs  of  the  Terror  had  fallen; 
Germinal,  more  amazing  than  all  —  Danton  the 
lion  and  Camille  Desmoulins,  beloved  of  all, 
swept  into  the  common  fate.  And  all  the  time 
the  prisons  were  bursting  with  suspects  arriving 
by  hundreds  from  the  sections,  faster  than  the 
guillotine  could  serve  them. 

In  Nivose  the  names  of  the  Citoyen  and  Cito- 
yenne  Barabant  were  called,  and  hand  in  hand, 
without  a  word,  they  presented  themselves. 
They  entered  the  rolling  chariot,  seeing  again 
the  unfamiliar  streets;  but  it  was  not  to  trial 
that  they  were  borne,  but  to  another  prison,  the 
Benedictins  Anglais.  In  Germinal  they  were 
again  called,  and  once  more  expecting  death, 
were  again  transferred,  this  time  to  the  Prison 
des  Quatre  Nations,  with  a  glimpse  of  the  sun 
on  the  warm  waters  of  the  swollen  Seine  and  the 
breath  of  the  spring  that,  as  in  mockery,  brought 
to  their  laps  a  shower  of  petals  from  the  flower- 

340 


NICOLE  FORGOES   THE  SACRIFICE 

i 
ing  trees.     Twice  again  transferred,  they  passed 

through  the  Hotel  des  Fermes  and  arrived  in 
Fructidor  at  Les  Carmes. 

Here  new  tortures  awaited  them  from  the  hands 
of  their  captors,  clamoring  for  measures  that 
would  empty  the  prisons  of  this  constantly  swell- 
ing horde  of  suspects.  First,  the  newspaper  was 
forbidden  them,  then  all  communication  with  the 
outside  world.  On  pretext  that  the  aristocrats 
were  tempting  the  guards  by  bribery,  a  search 
was  instituted  and  all  money  and  valuables  were 
seized.  Later,  another  search  was  ordered,  and 
all  knives,  forks,  razors,  and  pins  were  confis- 
cated, until  for  a  woman  to  keep  a  hair-pin  ex- 
posed, her  to  immediate  trial. 

These  tyrannical  measures,  designed  to  provoke 
complaint,  failing  of  their  purpose,  the  jailers  had 
recourse  to  petty  tyranny,  to  insults  and  jibes. 
Families  were  separated  that  they  might  feel  the 
force  of  punishment  due  their  crimes.  Minia- 
tures of  loved  ones  were  snatched  from  their 
throats,  with  the  brutal  declaration  that  traitors 
had  no  right  to  consolation.  The  vilest  bread, 
spoiled  meat,  decayed  herring,  were  put  before 
them,  and  when  still  no  complaint  was  heard  the 
turnkey,  nonplussed  and  furious,  exclaimed : 

"Damned  aristocrats!  What,  we  feed  you 
garbage  and  you  won't  complain ! " 

341 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

Of  the  two,  Barabant,  tired  of  the  long  sus- 
pense, no  longer  retained  any  desire  to  struggle. 
Nicole  alone  upheld  his  resolution,  encouraging, 
inspiring,  invigorating  him  with  her  indomitable 
gaiety. 

In  the  long  months,  she  had  gone  resolutely 
and  without  subterfuge  over  the  problem  of  their 
relations  At  first,  in  the  new  flush  of  happiness 
at  again  possessing  him,  she  had  yielded  weakly, 
and,  banishing  from  her  mind  the  inexorable 
figure  of  Javogues,she  had  turned  to  life  and  hope. 
In  the  ascendancy  that  her  courage  took  over 
the  limp  resolution  of  Barabant  she  felt  in  her- 
self a  new  power,  and  in  him  a  new  need  for  her, 
that  tempted  her  with  the  bright  vision  of  marriage. 

As  she  began  to  reason  the  mood  passed.  For 
the  first  time  she  saw  him  in  the  company  of  men 
of  intelligence  and  education,  with  whom  he  dis- 
coursed on  things  that  were  to  her  a  closed  book. 
Then  she  realized  that  between  Barabant  and  her- 
self was  a  gulf  of  opportunity  and  interests  which 
she  could  never  bridge.  He  too,  she  soon  real- 
ized, felt  insensibly  the  distance  between  them : 
she  passed  for  his  wife,  but  the  constant  reiteration 
never  suggested  to  him  what  it  brought  to  her. 
To  become  his  wife  was  to  be  a  drag  to  his 
future ;  to  remain  as  they  were  was  to  count  the 
hours  of  her  youth.  So,  vaguely,  in  a  confused 
342 


NICOLE   FORGOES   THE   SACRIFICE 

intuition,  the  girl,  struggling  to  understand  what 
was  barred  to  her,  grew  to  realize  the  limitations 
to  her  life.  It  was  a  tragedy  whichever  way  she 
sought,  but  the  tragedy  had  begun  at  the  first 
breath  of  love  that  had  awakened  her.  So  re- 
nouncing the  future,  she  returned  to  the  thought 
of  sacrifice, — to  save  Barabant  and,  appeasing 
the  manes  of  Javogues,  to  dwell  in  her  lover's 
heart  a  bright  memory  of  youth  and  devotion, 
that  would  abide  with  him  through  life.  Therein 
she  took  her  courage  and  all  her  consolation. 

With  the  arrival  of  Thermidor,  the  Terrorists, 
checked  by  the  passive  attitude  of  the  prisoners, 
introduced,  as  suspects  among  the  prisons,  spies, 
who,  succeeding  by  malignant  imagination  where 
brutality  had  failed,  denounced  to  the  Committee 
of  Safety  a  conspiracy  by  which  the  prisoners 
were  to  escape  by  ropes  from  the  windows,  over- 
power the  guards,  and  assassinate  the  Convention. 

The  pretext  was  found  sufficient  and  elastic, 
and  the  hecatombs  began.  The  spies,  called 
moufons,  prepared  the  lists  each  night  that  sent 
troops  of  twenty-five  or  more  each  day  into  the 
fatal  chariots, —  paralytics,  men  of  seventy,  feeble 
women  and  maidens, — the  crimes  of  all  com- 
prised under  the  heading  of  intention  to  assassi- 
nate the  Convention.  As  fast  as  the  prisons  were 
emptied  the  influx  arrived,  forcing  more  transfers. 

343 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

On  the  yth  of  Thermidor,  for  the  fifth 
time,  Nicole  and  Barabant  were  placed  in  the 
chariots,  to  be  conveyed  to  another  prison. 
Then  Barabant,  utterly  tired,  rebelled  and 
said : 

"  At  last  it  is  too  much.  I  want  to  end  it.  I 
can  endure  it  no  longer.  Nicole,  let  me  die  now 
and  be  through  with  the  suspense.  We  cannot 
escape.  They  are  guillotining  fifty  a  day.  Next 
month  it  will  be  a  hundred.  Let  us  be  firm  and 
not  await  another  month  of  torture." 

"Then,  Barabant,  after  all  I  have  done,"  she 
said  reproachfully,  "  you  would  send  me  to  the 
guillotine  ?  " 

"  You  ?  " 

"  I  follow  where  you  go." 

But  their  companions  cried  in  alarm :  "  What 
are  you  doing  *?  " 

"You  '11   betray  us  all!" 

"  For  mercy's  sake,  be  silent ! " 

Barabant,  without  energy  to  pursue  long  any 
determination,  resigned  himself  wearily  to  their 
protests  and  the  appeal  of  Nicole. 

The  chariot  rolled  out  into  the  streets,  where 
the  passers-by,  weighted  down  with  the  prevailing 
depression,  regarded  them  without  hatred  and 
without  curiosity.  Their  journey  led  them  by 
the  gardens  of  the  Luxembourg,  resplendent  with 

344 


NICOLE  FORGOES   THE   SACRIFICE 

green  and  the  glisten  of  cool  fountains.  In  the 
chariot  some  one  said : 

"  Pleasant  weather !  " 

"  What  good  does  that  do  us  ? "  grumbled 
another. 

*'  I  played  there  as  a  youngster ;  but  what  of 
that?" 

"  It  does  not  seem  different.    How  curious ! " 

"  Where  are  we  going  ?  " 

"To  the  Porte-Libre." 

"  I  was  there  in  Prairial." 

"  What  's  it  like  ?  " 

"  The  same  as  the  rest." 

The  whispered  comments  ceased  as  the  prison 
loomed  over  them.  The  carts  ground  on  the 
cobblestones,  passing  the  gate.  From  somewhere 
among  them  a  sigh  was  heard.  A  voice  said, 
with  a  low  laugh  : 

"  Here  's  the  inn.     All  down ! " 

They  passed  to  the  office  for  identification  and 
enrolment,  and  on  through  a  square  into  the 
strange  corridor  to  the  hall,  where  a  score  of 
inmates  straggled  in  curiously  to  see  if  they 
recognized  any  of  the  new  arrivals.  There,  to 
her  despair,  Nicole  beheld,  in  the  shadow  of  a 
pillar,  screened  a  little  from  the  crowd,  the  face 
she  had  dreaded  for  months  to  encounter  —  the 
malignant  face  of  Cramoisin,  the  Tapedure. 

345 


XII 

THE    FATHER    OF    LOUISON 

THE  turbulent  months  which  devastated  the 
city  with  the  fury  of  a  pest  had  been  to  Dos- 
sonville  an  exhilaration.  Paths  beset  with  a  hun- 
dred pitfalls  he  ran  with  enjoyment,  passing  from 
side  to  side  with  agility  and  alacrity,  reveling  in 
intrigues,  nourished  by  entanglements.  But  the 
recrudescence  of  the  Terror  alarmed  him  in  one 
way,  for  it  rendered  him  powerless  to  aid  Bara- 
bant  and  Nicole.  He  still  watched  over  them, 
but  even  he  dared  not  risk  a  communication,  for 
the  moment  had  arrived  when  it  sufficed  no 
longer  to  be  Jacobin  or  Moderate.  To  sleep 
securely  at  home  one  must  have  been  born  lucky. 
The  death  of  Javogues  and  the  disappearance 
of  Cramoisin,  Boudgoust,  and  Jambony  had  left 
the  domination  of  Dossonville  undisputed.  Gene- 
vieve  alone  remained ;  but  the  girl,  violently  cast 
into  womanhood  by  the  spark  of  love,  had  re- 
lapsed into  childhood.  He  saw  her  once  or  twice 
struggling  under  the  weight  of  a  bucket  of  water, 
346 


THE   FATHER   OF   LOUISON 

—  a  child  again  opening  its  uncomprehending 
eyes  on  the  world. 

Thus  left  to  the  liberty  of  his  own  pursuits, 
Dossonville  had  passed  the  time  running  the 
streets,  nose  in  the  wind,  smelling  out  the  popular 
favor,  prying,  laughing,  never  abandoning  his 
equanimity,  furious  and  frantic  when  it  was  nec- 
essary, moderate  and  smooth  of  speech  when 
clemency  was  in  the  air. 

So  that  the  prudent,  desiring  no  more  than  to 
agree  with  the  strong,  had  trimmed  their  sails  by 
the  conduct  of  Le  Corbeau  and  Sans-Chagrin,who 
reflected  the  mood  of  their  inscrutable  leader.  In 
Nivose,  when  a  wave  of  pity  swept  over  the 
Convention,  nothing  could  have  been  more  touch- 
ing than  the  laments  of  Sans-Chagrin,  while  the 
glance  of  Le  Corbeau  was  benevolence  itself. 
Their  weapons  disappeared,  replaced  by  bouton- 
nieres,  while,  lingering  behind  their  leader,  they 
jested  with  all  comers. 

With  the  news  of  the  wholesale  drownings  at 
Nantes  and  the  revival  of  massacres,  the  two  had 
put  forth  cutlasses  and  pistols  as  a  chestnut  blos- 
soms overnight,  and,  stalking  abroad  with  violent 
gestures  and  furious  speech,  struck  dismay  in  all 
who  met  their  suspicious  glances. 

But  the  leader  who,  with  a  sign,  worked  these 
sudden  transformations  was  always  at  the  head, 

347 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

imperturbable,  alert,  and  impudent,  twirling  as 
his  only  weapon  the  little  ivory  wand  with  which 
he  whipped  circles  in  the  air. 

Occasionally  he  saw  Louison,  when  the  execu- 
tion of  a  Mme.  Du  Barry  or  a  Maillard  drew  him 
to  the  spectacle  of  the  guillotine.  Between  the 
singular  girl  and  himself  there  developed  a  curi- 
ous attraction  and  repulsion,  which  impelled  or 
checked  his  interest  as  regularly  as  the  ebb  and 
flow  of  the  tides.  When  he  saw  her  on  the 
boulevards  he  felt  strongly  her  magnetism,  but 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  guillotine  she  caused  him  a 
cold,  almost  repulsive,  sensation. 

So  marked  were  her  habits  that  a  few  had 
even  bestowed  on  her  the  soubriquet  of  "  the 
daughter  of  the  guillotine."  At  the  Cabaret  de 
la  Guillotine,  where  at  lunch  the  menu  bore  the 
list  of  those  to  be  executed  in  the  afternoon,  she 
was  pointed  out  as  the  one  who  had  never  missed 
a  performance.  When  discussions  arose  as  to  an 
execution,  it  was  always  Louison  who  was  ap- 
pealed to  to  decide. 

This  development  astounded  Dossonville, 
then  annoyed  him,  and  finally  aroused  him  to 
such  a  pitch  of  disgust  that  one  day  he  broke 
out: 

"  Louison,  it  is  not  right,  nor  human,  nor  de- 
cent to  give  way  to  such  a  curiosity.  You 

348 


THE  FATHER  OF  LOUISON 

must  stop  it.  It  is  dangerous.  It  will  be- 
come a  mania.  Already  you  seem  at  times  in- 
human." 

"  Others  are  there  every  day,"  she  protested. 

"  But  not  like  you.  You  must  stop.  What, 
does  it  please  you  to  be  called  the  daughter  of 
the  guillotine  ?  " 

"I  don't  know.  It  is  always  pleasant  to  be 
known." 

"  It  is  repellent.'* 

"  Don't  come,  then." 

For  a  fortnight  he  absented  himself,  angry 
and  disturbed.  But  in  measure  as  she  ceased  to 
appeal  to  his  interest  she  perplexed  his  curiosity, 
and  he  was  impelled  more  and  more  to  study 
her,  seeking  to  understand  the  reasons  of  her  in- 
difference to  suffering  and  the  evident  absence  of 
emotion.  At  the  end  of  two  weeks,  she  met  him 
on  the  boulevards  with  an  amused  smile. 

"  Since  you  persist  in  regarding  me  as  a  curi- 
osity," she  said,  "you  might  try  what  you  can 
discover.  Mama  is  back." 

Dossonville,  without  waiting  to  be  urged  twice, 
made  a  trip  to  the  shop  of  the  wig-maker  and 
discovered  that  la  Mere  Baudrier  had  indeed 
returned  from  the  provinces.  So  that  night,  to- 
ward eleven  o'clock,  he  led  his  watch-dogs  back, 
relying  on  a  plan  of  campaign  which  he  had 

349 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

imagined  to  force  a  revelation.  Stationing  Sans- 
Chagrin  at  the  door,  under  which  showed  a  slit 
of  light,  he  knocked  and  entered  without  await- 
ing permission. 

A  woman,  shading  a  candle,  came  precipi- 
tately down  the  stairs,  crying : 

"  Who  's  there,  and  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Are  you  la  Mere  Baudrier  ?  " 

"Well?" 

"  Are  you  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Descend ;  I  wish  to  speak  with  you." 

She  came  down  slowly,  regarding  him  with 
alarmed  surprise. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"The  Citoyen  Dossonville.  I  represent  the 
Nation." 

Then,  while  the  look  changed  to  one  of  dis- 
may, she  blurted : 

"  But  what  has  the  Nation  to  do  with  me  *?  " 

"  Do  not  fear,  citoyenne,  you  will  have  every 
chance  to  excuse  yourself." 

"  Then  I  am  to  be  arrested  *?  " 

Dossonville,  without  replying,  said : 

"  Lead  the  way  to  the  back ;  I  must  speak 
with  you  alone." 

She  obeyed,  repeating : 

"  Am  I  under  arrest  ?    Am  I  *?    There  's  some 

350 


THE  FATHER  OF   LOUISON 

mistake.  I  'm  the  Citoyenne  Baudrier.  Of  what 
can  I  be  accused  ?  " 

"  Exactly  on  that  point  I  am  to  interrogate 
you.  It  may  be  long;  sit  down." 

La  Mere  Baudrier,  trembling,  took  a  chair, 
never  ceasing  her  mumbling. 

"But  what?  I  don't  understand.  Why, 
every  one  will  tell  you  that  I  am  a  patriot." 

Dossonville,  who  had  been  a  moment  inter- 
ested in  the  resemblance  of  daughter  and  mother, 
seized  upon  the  last  word. 

"  Citoyenne,  there  's  the  point :  what  consti- 
tutes a  patriot  ?  Do  you  know  the  law  of  sus- 
pects "?  "  He  tilted  back  his  head  and  closed  his 
eyes,  not  so  tightly  though  as  to  miss  the  expres- 
sion of  her  face.  "  These  are  declared  suspects : 

"All  aristocrats. 

"All  priests. 

"  All  Moderates. 

"All  those  who,  although  they  have  done 
nothing  against  the  Nation,  have  done  nothing 
for  it." 

He  examined  the  prisoner  carefully  as  he  con- 
tinued, emphasizing  each  word : 

"  All  those  who  correspond  with  the  enemies 
of  the  country. 

"  All  who  habitually  entertain  strangers. 

"All  those  who  in  the  past  have  been  associ- 

351 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

ated  with  the  aristocrats,  whether  as  servant,  mis- 
tress, or  friend." 

"  She  does  not  seem  to  fear  the  word  aristo- 
crat," Dossonville  added  to  himself.  Then  aloud: 
"  Citoyenne  Baudrier,  you  are  accused  of  favor- 
ing the  aristocrats." 

A  look  of  amazement  overspread  the  woman's 
features,  which  was  so  complete  an  answer  to  the 
charge  that  he  added  quickly : 

"Citoyenne,  you  are  said  to  have  been  very 
intimate  in  the  past  with  the  ci-devant  nobles." 

The  blank  look  of  astonishment  gave  place  to 
one  of  indignation. 

"  I  ?  I,  the  Citoyenne  Baudrier  ?  Come, 
that 's  a  joke  !  " 

"  Citoyenne  Baudrier,  listen  to  me,"  Dosson- 
ville said,  checking  the  explosion,  "you  are  ac- 
cused of  having  a  daughter  whose  parentage  you 
will  not  reveal,  because  the  father  is  a  ci-devant 
aristocrat  and  an  enemy  of  his  country." 

At  this  point-blank  accusation,  to  his  surprise, 
she  rose  and  said  scornfully,  with  her  hands  on 
her  hips  : 

"  Ah,  I  see  this  is  a  trick  of  Louison's." 

For  answer  he  displayed  the  shield  of  an  agent 
de  surete.    La  Mere  Baudrier,  overwhelmed,  fell 
back,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  while  a 
single  word  escaped  her : 
352 


THE  FATHER  OF  LOUISON 

"  Never ! " 

"  Citoyenne,"  Dossonville  cried  sternly,  "  I 
warn  you  that  only  by  proving  the  parentage  of 
your  daughter  can  you  clear  yourself.  If  you  re- 
fuse, you  must  answer  before  the  Tribunal  to  the 
accusation." 

The  woman  shook  her  head  without  look- 
ing up. 

"  Le  Corbeau !     Sans-Chagrin ! "  he  called. 

At  the  noise  of  their  entrance  into  the  hall  she 
sprang  up,  crying :  "  Wait !  Wait ! " 

Giving  them  an  order  to  halt,  Dossonville  re- 
turned, saying  roughly : 

"  Well,  have  you  decided  to  speak  "?  " 

For  a  moment  the  woman  remained  swaying, 
babbling  to  herself;  then  suddenly  she  sank  back, 
crying : 

"No,  no!" 

"  Undoubtedly  it  is  an  aristocrat,  and  some  one 
formidable,"  Dossonville  thought,  seeing  the  pallor 
of  her  face.  Then,  raising  his  voice,  he  called 
his  men. 

At  their  entrance  a  trembling  seized  the  body 
of  the  woman,  but  at  the  sight  of  the  mocking 
face  of  Sans-Chagrin  she  recoiled  as  before  a 
vision,  and  a  scream  escaped  her. 

"The  Cure  Sans-Souci!  The  Cure  Sans- 
Souci!" 

353 


IN    THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"  Who  calls  me  by  that  name  ?  "  Sans-Chagrin 
cried,  his  face  assuming  a  look  of  amazement. 
"Tiens!  but  I  know  that  woman.!" 

Suddenly  he  struck  his  head. 

"  Of  course  ! "  he  cried.  "  Pardi !  what  is 
there  so  terrible  about  me  ?  I  was  always  a  good 
friend  to  you,  La  Glorieuse." 

"  You  knew  it,  then,  all  the  while  ? "  the 
woman  cried,  turning  fiercely  to  Dossonville. 

"  I  know  nothing,"  Dossonville  answered ;  and 
seeing  that  chance  had  come  in  somehow  to  his 
aid,  he  demanded  curtly  of  Sans-Chagrin :  "  What 
do  you  know  of  her  ?  " 

"  A  good  deal,"  Sans-Chagrin  began,  with  a 
smile.  "  I  confessed  her  when  I  was  a  ci-devant 
cure  in  the  days  of  fanaticism  and  error." 

La  Mere  Baudrier,  very  white,  extended  her 
hand  for  permission  to  Dossonville,  who  said 
encouragingly : 

"  Allons,  you  are  going  to  be  reasonable 
now?" 

"  I  will  speak."  She  turned  to  Sans-Chagrin. 
"  Citoyen  Sans-Souci  —  " 

"  I  am  Sans-Chagrin  now." 

"Citoyen  Sans-Chagrin,  they  accuse  me  of 
having  a  daughter  by  an  aristocrat — Louison,  the 
bouquetiere." 

"  But  your  little  one  was  called  Rose." 

354 


THE  FATHER  OF   LOUISON 

"  I  changed  the  name  afterward."  For  a  mo- 
ment she  was  thrown  into  confusion,  but  rallying, 
she  continued :  "  You  can  say  if  the  father  was 
an  aristocrat." 

"  I  should  hope  so  :  it  was  I  that  baptized  her. 
Come,  now,  what  was  he  called  ?  La  Gloire  — 
la,  le  —  no,  Lajoie,  Simon  Lajoie,  that 's  it." 

"  Simon  Lajoie  ! " 

The  thunderclap  was  Dossonville's,  who, 
thrown  off  his  guard,  caught  Sans-Chagrin  by 
the  shoulder,  repeating: 

"  Simon  Lajoie  ! " 

But  immediately,  by  a  violent  effort,  he  con- 
trolled himself,  and  dismissing  them  hurriedly, 
turned  his  back  on  the  frightened  woman,  seek- 
ing to  regain  his  composure.  When  he  turned, 
it  was  with  the  calm  of  intense  excitement. 

"  Is  that  the  Simon  Lajoie  who  used  to  fre- 
quent the  Cafe  Procope  *?  " 

The  woman  remained  dumb. 

"Is  it?" 

"  Yes." 

"Good.  Your  explanations  are  sufficient. 
You  are  released." 

He  watched  the  look  of  immense  relief  that 
spread  over  her  countenance  as  she  rose,  with  a 
mumbled  thanks,  and  started  for  the  door. 

"  By  the  way,  citoyenne,"  he  cried  carelessly ; 

355 


IN   THE  NAME   OF  LIBERTY 

"  one  moment.  Come  back.  Sit  down.  Could 
the  Citoyen  Lajoie  have  been  any  one  in  dis- 
guise ?  " 

Terrified  and  trapped,  the  woman  sprang  up. 

"For  instance,  the  good  Citoyen  Charles 
Sanson?" 

Her  answer  was  a  shriek  and  the  thud  of  her 
body  falling  in  a  swoon  to  the  floor. 


356 


XIII 

DAUGHTER    OF    THE    GUILLOTINE 

/CERTAINLY,  he  is  demented,"  Le  Cor- 
v_^  beau  cried  when,  after  a  dozen  zigzags, 
Dossonville  continued  to  plunge  furiously  ahead 
up  street  after  street. 

"Decidedly  so,"  grumbled  Sans-Chagrin. 
"  Here  's  three  times  we  've  passed  the  Tour  St. 
Jacques." 

"What  the  devil  could  have  happened?" 

"  You  know  Lajoie  ?  " 

"Why,  of  course — a  little  insignificant  man." 

"  It  was  perhaps  his  brother." 

"  He  had  n't  the  look." 

"  Anyhow,  I  say  it  's  time  to  rest." 

"  My  legs  are  worn  out." 

"  If  we  suggested  a  halt  ?  " 

"  I  don't  dare." 

"  Neither  do  I." 

Oblivious  to  their  fatigue,  Dossonville  wan- 
dered on  in  absurd  circles,  heedless  of  his  sur- 
roundings, while  if  he  passed  a  corner  three  times 

357 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

he  did  not  notice  it  once.  Vain  and  proud  in 
his  imperturbability,  for  the  first  time  he  was 
completely  unnerved  by  this  vision  of  the  execu- 
tioner that  rose  up  at  the  side  of  the  girl  whom 
he  had  been  on  the  verge  of  loving.  All  at  once 
the  mystery  of  her  character  was  revealed,  the  in- 
sensibility to  suffering,  the  unnatural  curiosity, 
and  the  sang-froid  beyond  a  woman. 

"  What  an  inheritance  !  What  a  curse  !  "  he 
repeated. 

Under  the  broken  silhouettes  of  the  housetops 
across  the  luminous  sky,  from  out  the  mysterious, 
vague  corners  of  the  night,  there  started  up, 
more  ghostly  and  more  sinister,  the  shadowy 
dynasty  of  the  Sansons,  the  pariahs  accursed, 
isolated,  loathed,  flinging  themselves  in  vain 
against  the  barriers  of  prejudice,  striving  to 
escape  into  the  obscurity  of  their  fellows, 
always  discovered,  always  driven  back  on  the 
fingers  of  the  crowd,  that  shrank  away  even  as  it 
pursued. 

Back  of  the  furtive  figure  of  Sanson  appeared 
the  troop  of  malign  ancestors,  masked  in  scarlet  or 
in  black,  nonchalant  in  their  blood  service,  while 
behind  hovered  the  red  cloud  of  victims,  —  men, 
women,  priests,  nuns,  children  and  gray-heads, — 
in  long  danse  macabre  around  the  ax,  the  gal- 
lows, and  the  guillotine ;  and  among  the  Sansons, 

358 


DAUGHTER   OF   THE  GUILLOTINE 

he  saw,  calm  and  uncomprehending,  the  figure 
of  Louison. 

Suddenly  above  his  head  rose  the  twin  shafts 
of  the  guillotine,  dominating  the  desert  of  the 
night.  Then  trembling,  aghast  at  this  sinister 
menace,  Dossonville,  with  a  cry  of  horror,  turned 
and  fled  from  the  inanimate  thing  that  waited 
there  relentlessly  the  coming  of  the  day. 

In  the  first  recoil  from  his  personal  association, 
he  had  promised  himself  never  again  to  encounter 
Louison;  but  with  the  morning  she  seemed  so 
expelled  from  his  past  that,  yielding  to  an  over- 
powering desire  to  study  her  in  the  light  of  his 
new  knowledge,  he  drifted,  almost  unconsciously, 
to  the  Place  de  la  Revolution. 

The  crowd  in  which  he  sheltered  himself  was 
loose,  not  very  attentive,  nor  very  large :  the 
spectacle  was  old ;  there  was  not  enough  variety 
in  the  performers.  In  front,  scores  of  women, 
seated  indolently  on  their  chairs,  suspended  their 
knitting  at  each  fall  of  the  ax,  counting: 

"  Twenty." 

"  Twenty-one." 

At  each  execution  a  murmur  wandered  through 
the  crowd — a  conventional,  listless,  slurred  cry: 

"  Vive  la  Nation ! " 

Louison,  never  still,  moved  among  the  trico- 

359 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

teuses,  nodding  and  chatting.  As  each  hum 
announced  the  arrival  of  a  victim  on  the  scaffold 
she  turned  for  a  momentary,  prying  glance ;  then, 
without  interest,  wheeling  about,  she  cried  her 
cockades,  seeking  in  the  crowd  a  likely  customer. 

Absorbed  in  the  girl,  marveling  at  the  strange 
and  terrible  forces  that  drew  her  back  to  the 
parent  scaffold,  Dossonville  fell  into  so  deep  an 
abstraction  that  it  cost  him  his  concealment. 
Before  he  could  retire  with  the  departing  crowd, 
Louison,  perceiving  him,  had  hastened  to  his  side. 

"  What  happened  last  night  *?  "  she  said,  with 
an  imperious  gesture.  "What  did  you  say  to 
my  mother  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  know  I  saw  her  *? "  he  said, 
unable  to  control  a  slight  movement  of  recoil. 

"  I  know  it.  What  happened?  "  she  demanded 
impatiently.  "  I  was  there  this  morning,  but  she 
was  gone — gone  during  the  night.  What  passed 
between  you  ?  " 

"  You  have  been  misinformed." 

"Dossonville,  you  are  deceiving  me,"  she  said, 
looking  in  his  face.  "You  saw  her,  and  you 
learned  the  name  of  my  father." 

Without  allowing  time  for  denial,  she  took  his 

arm  and  led  him  toward  the  Cours  la  Reine, 

turning   among   the   bypaths  of  the  luxuriant 

woods.     There,  amid  the  joyous  gaiety  of  the 

360 


DAUGHTER  OF   THE  GUILLOTINE 

spring,  under  the  soft  foliage  of  the  chestnuts, 
she  faced  him  with  a  peremptory  question : 

"  You  saw  her  ?  " 

"No." 

"  She  told  you  ?  " 

"No." 

Louison  examined  his  face  attentively. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you  to-day,  and 
why  do  you  conceal  it  from  me  ?  Did  you  not 
promise  to  tell  me  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Then?" 

"  Nothing  has  happened." 

"  Dossonville,  you  are  lying  lamely,"  she  said; 
then  she  added,  with  a  frown :  "  My  father  was  a 
great  scoundrel,  then  ?  " 

Dossonville  did  not  reply. 

"  How  stupid  you  are !  You  think  it  would 
make  a  difference.  How  does  it  affect  me? 
Come,  I  am  not  responsible,  no  matter  who  it  is. 
Tell  me.  It  cannot  affect  me." 

"  It  will." 

"  Then  you  know,"  she  said  instantly. 

Dossonville  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  de- 
sired the  appearance  of  resistance  more  than  to 
resist,  for  his  curiosity  was  stronger  than  his  pity. 
But  having  thus  betrayed  himself,  he  added  im- 
pressively : 

361 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

"  Do  not  force  me  to  tell  you." 

She  began  to  laugh. 

"Louison,  I  warn  you,  do  not  demand  to 
know." 

"  I  do  demand  it.     I  insist." 

"  You  will  curse  me." 

"No." 

"  I  cannot  tell  you." 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  she  cried,  with  a  laugh.  "  Phi- 
lippe Egalite,  a  farmer-general,  Bailly,  Capet 
even, —  I  mention  the  worst." 

"  Louison,"  he  said  shortly, "  they  call  you  the 
daughter  of  the  guillotine." 

She  stopped,  perplexed. 

"  You  are  well  named." 

"  Don't  return  to  that,"  she  said  irritably.  "  It 
was  agreed  we  were  not  to  mention  that.  Come, 
don't  keep  me  waiting.  I  tell  you  it  will  make 
no  difference." 

"  You  absolve  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course." 

"  Even  if  Sanson  were  your  father  ?  " 

Louison  burst  out  laughing,  but  suddenly  she 
broke  off  at  the  sight  of  his  face. 

"  Is  that  serious  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

She  repeated,  "  Is  that  serious  *?  " 

"  Yes." 

362 


DAUGHTER  OF   THE  GUILLOTINE 

"  I  am  the  daughter  of  Sanson  ?  " 

Dossonville  inclined  his  head,  awaiting  the 
explosion.  To  his  surprise,  she  remained  quiet, 
withdrawing  a  little,  while  her  eyes  still  waited 
on  him,  as  though  expecting  a  denial. 

"  How  curious !  "  she  said  at  length.  "  I  never 
thought  of  that.  Ah,  I  understand  why  she  hid 
it.  Now  tell  me  all." 

Seeing  that  she  did  not  realize  the  extent  of 
the  revelation,  Dossonville  quickly  related  the 
facts,  astonished  at  her  calm,  wondering  what 
force  was  working  beneath  the  surface. 

Louison,  in  fact,  unable  immediately  to  com- 
prehend the  situation,  continued  to  watch  Dos- 
sonville, as  though  to  estimate  from  his  behavior 
the  force  of  the  change  to  her.  Remembering 
his  attempted  escape  on  the  Place  de  la  Revolu- 
tion, and  alarmed  at  a  new  reserve  in  his  manner, 
she  asked  herself  angrily,  albeit  anxiously,  what 
difference  the  knowledge  would  make  in  him. 
To  test  him,  she  advanced  a  step  and  said,  hold- 
ing out  her  arms  as  though  to  embrace  him : 

"  Thanks,  my  friend ;  you  have  kept  your 
promise." 

He  withdrew  but  a  step  and  only  for  an  in- 
stant, but  that  involuntary  shrinking  was  her 
sentence. 

With  a  cry  of  despair,  she  bounded  back, 

363 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

transformed  with  hot,  revolting  anger,  her  fingers 
struggling  against  the  temptation  of  the  dagger, 
crying  to  him : 

"  Go !  Go  quickly !  Go  now ! " 
Then,  distrusting  the  murder  in  her  heart,  she 
fled  into  the  woods;  but  in  a  moment,  crazed 
with  the  cruel  injustice  of  her  fate,  she  came  run- 
ning back,  her  lips  trembling  with  passion,  her 
breath  cut  and  quick.  With  his  accustomed 
prudence,  Dossonville  had  retired  by  another 
direction,  leaving  Louison  to  tire  herself  out 
among  the  fragrant  paths  in  fruitless,  maddened 
rushings. 

Gradually  among  the  tricoteuses,  the  bouque- 
tieres,  and  the  clientele  of  the  Cabaret  de  la  Guil- 
lotine it  began  to  be  whispered  that  something 
extraordinary  had  happened  to  Louison.  Her 
manner  had  changed.  She  was  no  longer  indif- 
ferent, mocking,  and  careless  under  the  scaffold. 
Instead,  her  companions  began  to  be  alarmed  at 
the  cloud  on  her  brow,  the  brooding  fixity  of  her 
glance,  the  abruptness  and  the  poverty  of  her 
speech.  Her  questions  were  even  stranger  than 
her  moods.  One  day  she  asked  of  her  compan- 
ion, thrusting  her  hand  toward  the  guillotine  : 

"Does  that  affect  you  to  see  them  die  like 
that?" 

364 


DAUGHTER  OF   THE   GUILLOTINE 

"  I  dream  sometimes  at  nights,"  the  girl  an- 
swered. 

Then  Louison,  turning  on  her  an  uncompre- 
hending glance,  exclaimed : 

"True?" 

Another  time  she- said: 

"  Does  n't  that  make  you  curious  ?  " 

"Of  what?" 

"  Curious  to  know  what  you  would  do." 

Those  who  repeated  her  remarks  exclaimed  in 
apprehension  and  tapped  their  foreheads.  As  a 
natural  consequence,  the  most  extraordinary  ru- 
mors arose.  One  declared  that  she  had  been 
seen  thrice  at  midnight  prowling  about  the  vicin- 
ity of  the  scaffold.  Another  affirmed  that  he  on 
whom  she  looked  with  anger  would  perish. 
Others,  scorning  these  absurd  rumors,  gave  it  as 
their  opinion  that  her  mind  was  shaken  by  her 
unnatural  obsession.  The  girl  did  not  fail  to 
notice  the  change  in  the  demeanor  of  her  com- 
panions, and,  in  her  tortured  imagination,  ascribed 
to  it  a  different  cause. 

"Why  do  they  draw  away  from  me?"  she 
said  once. 

"  It  's  your  imagination." 

"Are  you  superstitious?"  she  said  disjointedly. 

"  I  ?     A  little." 

"  Why   do    they   call   me   the   daughter    of 

365 


IN   THE   NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

the  guillotine  ?  Does  n't  that  strike  you  as 
odd?" 

And  she  threw  upon  her  companion  a  quick, 
cunning  glance,  as  though  to  surprise  the  momen- 
tary confusion  that  would  expose  her  real  know- 
ledge. 

Thermidor  began  with  the  hecatombs  from  the 
pretended  Conspiracy  of  the  Prisons,  and  the 
transfer  of  the  guillotine  to  the  Barriere  du  Trone 
Renverse.  The  great  rolling  biers,  attended  by 
the  scum  of  the  city,  bore  each  day  to  the  scaffold 
their  thirty,  forty,  sixty  victims.  Even  the  Fau- 
bourg St.  Antoine,  satiated  and  appalled,  began 
to  grumble,  while  from  time  to  time  voices  broke 
out  in  protestation,  willing  from  mere  lassitude 
to  end  the  spectacle  by  their  own  sacrifice. 

On  the  6th  of  Thermidor,  almost  at  the  side 
of  Louison,  a  bouquetiere,  her  comrade,  cried 
out: 

"  I  am  sick  of  it !  Robespierre  is  a  scoundrel. 
They  kill  too  many  people.  I  want  to  die." 

The  next  day  she  was  on  the  scaffold,  looking 
down  indifferently,  contented  to  end  the  fatigue 
of  surfeited  disgust. 

Louison  laughed  aloud. 

"  Why  do  you  laugh  ?  "  her  neighbor  said. 
"  What  has  she  done  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  laugh  at  her,"  she  answered  impa- 
366 


DAUGHTER  OF   THE  GUILLOTINE 

tiently.  "  I  laughed  because  I  told  her  I  would 
go  first." 

Her  companion  edged  away.  The  tricoteuses, 
stopping  their  needles,  counted : 

"  Forty-eight ! " 

At  that  moment  Louison  beheld  Dossonville 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd.  Seizing  the  girl 
nearest  to  her,  a  child  of  fifteen,  by  the  shoulder, 
she  cried,  with  a  furious  gesture : 

"  Jeanneton,  do  you  see  that  fellow  over  there  ? 
He  thinks  I  can't  see  him,  the  fool !  As  though 
I  cared ! " 

The  child  struggled  to  free  herself,  but  Louison, 
without  relaxing  her  hold,  transferred  her  look  to 
the  scaffold.  Twice  again  the  murmur  rose : 

"  Forty-nine ! " 

"  Fifty ! " 

"Do  you  know  what  I  am  wondering?" 
Louison  said  suddenly  to  the  child  whimpering 
in  her  clutch.  "  How  strange  it  must  feel  to  be 
there." 

All  at  once,  releasing  the  frightened  Jeanneton, 
she  advanced  toward  the  guillotine,  as  though 
irresistibly  sucked  into  the  maelstrom,  stopped, 
drew  her  hand  across  her  forehead,  then,  facing 
the  crowd,  flung  away  her  basket  of  flowers  and 
shouted : 

"Vive  le  Roi!" 

367 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

In  an  instant  she  was  surrounded,  while  every- 
where the  cries  went  up : 

"  She  is  mad !  " 

"  She  is  drunk  ! " 

"  We  have  seen  it  for  weeks." 

"  She  is  not  responsible." 

"  She  is  a  patriot" 

Others  insisted : 

"  Arrest  her ! " 

"  The  Nation  is  insulted ! " 

"  No  favor ! " 

About  the  fringes  of  the  crowd  they  questioned 
excitedly,  running  to  and  fro : 

"Who  is  it?" 

"  Louison." 

"  Impossible ! " 

"Yes,  Louison." 

"  She  is  mad ! " 

About  her  the  mass  struggled  and  swayed, 
some  crying  to  her  to  simulate  drunkenness, 
others  clamoring  for  her  arrest.  In  the  center, 
Louison,  alone  calm  and  indifferent,  secure  in 
the  knowledge  of  what  must  follow,  continued 
to  regard  the  silhouette  of  the  guillotine,  while 
about  her  lips  was  that  curious  smile  which  is 
seen  only  on  the  face  of  the  martyr  or  the  insane. 


XIV 

THE    LAST    ON    THE    LIST 

/IS  Nicole,  in  the  hall  of  the  Porte-Libre, 
JLJL.  stopped  aghast  at  this  apparition  of  their 
enemy,  Cramoisin  perceived  her,  and  scuttling 
hurriedly  forward,  cried  in  triumph  : 

"  Bonjour,  Nicole.  What  luck,  eh  *?  Well, 
are  n't  you  going  to  say  good  day  ?  " 

"  Bonjour,"  she  answered  hastily. 

"  And  Barabant,  too,"  he  cried.  "  Better  still, 
and  so  glad  to  see  me !  Bonjour,  Barabant." 

"  Ah,  it 's  you,  hypocrite  ! "  Barabant  answered 
scornfully. 

There  was  a  movement  of  incredulity  and 
alarm  among  the  prisoners,  who  hastened  to 
withdraw  from  them.  Cramoisin,  as  though 
whipped  across  the  face,  fell  back,  scowling  and 
cursing,  while  Nicole,  seizing  Barabant's  arm, 
cried : 

"  Barabant,  what  have  you  done  ?  " 

"  Nicole,"  he  answered,  "  do  you  remember 
what  Goursac  said  when  they  arrested  him  ?  " 

369 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

"No." 

"  *  They  are  liberating  me.'  Well,  I  too  wish 
to  be  free.  I  have  lived  like  a  dog  for  months. 
That  is  ended.  I  will  not  cringe  before  this 
bully,  who  will  send  us  to-morrow  to  the  guillo- 
tine." 

"  Then  you  are  determined  to  die  *?  " 

"Yes." 

"  So  be  it." 

They  took  their  places  at  the  long  table,  hud- 
dling among  the  famished  and  the  fever-racked, 
while  the  scullions  brought  in  pails  the  revolting 
food.  Anxious  to  learn  the  position  of  Cramoi- 
sin,  Nicole  was  about  to  question  her  neighbor, 
an  abbe  whose  kindly  look  encouraged  her,  when 
Cramoisin,  suddenly  appearing  at  her  shoulder, 
exclaimed : 

"  Eh,  Nicole,  my  dear,  if  you  want  to  know 
what  I  am  doing  here,  ask  me.  I  '11  tell  you.  I 
am  the  secretary  of  the  Conspiration.  I  keep  a 
list  of  all  the  good  conspirators  and  I  see  that 
they  are  rewarded.  I  bring  good  luck.  I  've 
been  here  but  a  week  and  we  've  guillotined 
forty ! " 

"  You  know  him  *?  "  the  priest  asked  as  the 
bully  swaggered  down  the  line,  and  Nicole  per- 
ceived the  slight  movement  with  which  he  drew 
away. 

37° 


THE   LAST   ON   THE   LIST 

"  He  is  our  bitterest  enemy." 

"  Pardon,"  he  murmured,  regarding  her  with 
compassion. 

"  We  expect  death,"  she  answered  quietly. 

"  What  he  says  is  true,"  he  added  in  a  whisper. 
"  Since  he  has  been  here  they  have  taken  forty 
of  us.  He  makes  out  the  lists  every  night.  We 
live  at  his  pleasure." 

"Does  he  live  among  us?  "  she  asked,  with  a 
quickened  interest. 

Again  Cramoisih  returned,  strutting  with  bom- 
bastic gestures,  crying  to  the  room : 

"I  am  the  friend  of  Fouquier.  Fouquier 
promised  me  to-day  that  in  two  more  weeks 
we  could  put  out  a  sign,  *  To  let.'  Is  n't  he 
kind  to  us,  though  ?  He  's  very  sympathetic,  is 
Fouquier.  And  I  am  his  friend  —  I,  Eugene 
Franz  Cramoisin.  He  honors  me  with  his  con- 
fidence. Eat  in  peace.  I  '11  speak  to  him  about 
you.  Don't  worry." 

He  swaggered  on,  vaunting  his  intimacy, 
loudly  assuring  them  he  brought  good  luck. 

Nicole  anxiously  repeated  her  question. 

"  He  keeps  up  the  farce  of  being  a  prisoner," 
her  neighbor  answered. 

"  Where  does  he  lodge  ?  " 

"  Near  you,  where  the  new  arrivals  are  put." 

"  Sangdieu !  "  rose  again   the   voice   of  Cra- 

37 * 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

moisin,  who,  farther  down,  had  halted  at  the  side 
of  a  woman.  "  The  herring  is  rotten.  Do  you 
not  see  it*?  Come,  you  must  complain." 

"  It  is  all  I  need,"  came  the  faint  answer.  "  I 
am  not  hungry." 

"  Bah,  you  aristocrats,  you  have  n't  the  cour- 
age of  dogs ! "  He  returned  to  another :  "And 
you,  young  man,  they  treat  you  badly,  eh  *? 
Shall  I  complain  to  Fouquier?" 

The  youth,  who  had  imprudently  met  his  eye, 
instantly  dropped  his  head ;  but  Cramoisin,  amid 
the  jeers  of  the  turnkeys,  with  a  pretense  of 
listening  for  his  answer,  exclaimed : 

"What  's  that  you  say?  Robespierre  is  a 
scoundrel  ?  " 

"  I  said  nothing !  " 

"Then  you  thought  it,  and  thoughts  are 
offenses ! " 

Arrived  opposite  Barabant,  he  planted  himself 
with  folded  arms  and  cried : 

"  Well,  Citoyen  Barabant,  the  food  's  good, 
eh?" 

Pushing  back  his  plate,  Barabant  likewise 
folded  his  arms  and  answered  with  a  sneer : 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  To  me  it  is  delicious ! " 

"  That 's  not  astonishing, —  it  's  the  food  of 
swine ! " 

372 


THE  LAST   ON   THE  LIST 

A  murmur  rumbled  over  the  hall,  rising  to 
weak  cries  of  protests : 

"No." 

"  He  slanders  it." 

"  We  don't  think  so,  citoyen." 

Others  implored  Barabant  to  be  silent,  trem- 
bling at  his  rash  speech,  that  would  suffice  to 
empty  the  prison.  Under  pretense  of  upbraiding 
him,  they  surrounded  him, beseeching  him  to  have 
a  thought  of  their  danger.  Yielding  to  their  terror, 
Barabant  remained  silent;  but  when,  after  the 
meal,  they  had  dispersed  to  their  rooms,  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Ah,  that  did  me  good !  I  feel  I  am  a  man 
again.  Nicole,  to-night  I  shall  sleep  soundly  for 
the  first  time  in  months,  knowing  that  after  to- 
morrow I  may  sleep  more  soundly." 

Waiting  barely  long  enough  to  assure  herself 
of  his  unconsciousness,  Nicole  withdrew  from  his 
side  and  stole  down  the  corridor,  seeking  until 
she  found  under  a  door  a  slit  of  light. 

At  her  soft  entrance  Cramoisin  started  up  in 
alarm  from  the  desk  where  he  had  been  prepar- 
ing his  list,  and  placed  the  chair  between  them. 

"  I  am  not  come  to  harm  you,"  she  said  dis- 
dainfully. Still  for  a  moment  he  eyed  her  in 
doubt,  before  he  was  reassured.  He  grumbled : 

"  What  do  you  want  ^  " 

373 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

From  where  she  was  she  could  see  the  list,  and 
at  its  head  the  one  name  she  dreaded  to  find. 

"Read,  if  you  wish,"  he  said  indifferently. 
"  It  will  give  you  pleasure." 

There  were  ten  names  in  all,  Barabant's  being 
the  first,  and  hers  was  not  of  the  number. 

"  I  have  something  to  ask  of  you." 

"Ask." 

"  I  do  not  ask  that  we  be  sent  to  the  guillotine 
together,"  she  said,  planning  cunningly  to  avoid 
one  danger.  "  That  would  be  too  great  a  con- 
solation for  you  to  accord  us.  Exchange  my 
name  for  Barabant's." 

"  Nini,"  he  said,  watching  her  with  covetous, 
blinking  eyes.  "  I  don't  intend  to  let  you  go." 

"If  you  will  send  me  instead,"  she  cried;  "if 
you  swear  it,  swear  to  spare  him,  I  will  give  you 
a  secret  that  will  earn  you  the  gratitude  of  Fou- 
quier." 

"  You  are  too  pretty,"  he  said,  with  a  smirk ; 
"  when  one  is  as  pretty  as  that,  one  is  a  patriot." 

"  You  will  not  accept  ?  " 

"  What,  after  this  evening  *?  " 

"  Citoyen,"  she  cried, "  he  is  in  a  delirium  !  It 
was  the  fever." 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"  Citoyen,  he  admitted  to  me  that  it  was  un- 
just." 

374 


THE  LAST   ON   THE  LIST 

"  He  shall  go.     You  I  '11  keep." 

"  Citoyen  Cramoisin,"  Nicole  said  coldly,  "you 
can  never  make  me  belong  to  you,  if  that  is  your 
purpose.  You  are  not  Javogues,  and  I  killed 
Javogues.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

Before  the  fire  in  her  eyes  Cramoisin  shrank 
away,  mumbling: 

**  You  are  more  difficult  than  the  women  of 
the  aristocrats." 

"  I  give  you  my  secret ! "  Nicole  cried  in  de- 
spair. "  Use  it  for  your  own  good.  I  did  not 
kill  Javogues  because  he  pursued  me ;  I  killed 
him  to  destroy  a  tyrant.  Place  my  name  there 
instead  of  Barabant's,  and  I  will  affirm  it  before 
the  Tribunal.  You  will  have  the  credit  of  dis- 
covering a  plot.  Fouquier  will  reward  you." 

"  Is  that  your  secret  ? "  Cramoisin  said  con- 
temptuously. "  Nothing  new  in  that." 

"  What !  You  knew,"  she  cried,  "  and  held 
back  my  name  *?  " 

"  Bah !  When  one  is  dead,  one  is  no  longer  a 
patriot." 

"  Citoyen  Cramoisin,  listen.  If  you  will  put 
my  name  on  the  list  instead  of  Barabant's,  I  '11 
give  you  all  the  money  I  have." 

To  her  joy,  he  looked  up  with  a  sudden  in- 
terest. 

"  How  much  have  you  ?  " 

375 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

"  Twenty  livres." 

At  the  mention  of  this  amount,  which  Nicole 
had  managed  to  preserve,  his  eye  became  elo- 
quent; but  suddenly  controlling  himself,  he  asked: 

"Paper?" 

"Gold." 

"  You  have  it  with  you  *?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Let 's  see  it." 

"  When  you  agree." 

"  It  is  right  to  be  merciful,"  he  said  at  last, 
with  a  sigh.  "  But  I  cannot  spare  him  more  than 
one  day." 

"  For  a  week  ?  "  she  pleaded. 
*He  shook  his  head. 

"Six  days  — five?" 

"  Impossible ! " 

"  Cramoisin,  for  pity's  sake,  four  ?  " 

"  Never,  never ! " 

"  Cramoisin,  by  your  hope  of  salvation ! " 

"  I  '11  give  you  three ;  not  another  hour." 

He  stretched  out  his  hand. 

"No;  erase  first." 

He  took  off  the  name  of  Barabant  and  substi- 
tuted, "The  woman  Nicole." 

"  What  did  you  write  ?  " 

"  T^he  woman  Nicole." 

"  Put  the  Citoyenne  Nicole  Barabant." 

376 


THE   LAST   ON   THE   LIST 

"What !     You  are  his  wife  ?  " 

"  Put  it  down." 

"  There !     Give  me  the  money." 

"  And  you  will  keep  Barabant's  name  until  the 
loth  of  Thermidor  *?  "  she  said  solemnly. 

"  Yes." 

"  Swear  it." 

"  I  swear  it." 

"  On  your  honor." 

"There,  on  my  honor,  then!  Give  me  the 
money." 

She  gave  it  to  him,  and  suddenly  casting  her- 
self on  her  knees,  she  cried  hysterically : 

"  Thanks,  thanks !  You  have  a  heart,  I  know. 
You  will  keep  your  word.  You  can  pity.  You 
can  be  merciful.  Thanks !  Thanks ! " 

Catching  the  ugly,  cruel  hands  in  hers,  she 
covered  them  with  her  kisses  and  her  tears. 
Then,  escaping,  she  fled  down  the  corridor,  re- 
turning to  bed,  but  not  to  sleep. 

In  the  morning  Barabant  awoke,  to  find  her  eyes 
open  and  the  sunlight  in  the  room. 

"  How  well  I  slept ! "  he  said,  springing  up. 
Going  to  the  window,  he  spread  his  hands  into 
the  beam  of  the  sun  that  entered.  "  That  feels 
good.  Tiens,  you  have  a  strange  look !  What 
is  it  ?  You  are  not  afraid  ?  " 

377 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

'*  No,"  she  answered,  smiling. 

"Well,  what  then?" 

"  I  have  something — " 

"  Why,  you  're  all  wrought  up,"  he  said,  in 
surprise,  as  she  stopped. 

"  Barabant,  I  ask  you  only  because  there  is  no 
hope  of  life.  Barabant,  I — " 

"  Why,  mignonne,  what  is  it  ?  What  has 
happened  *?  " 

She  threw  herself  in  his  arms,  sobbing : 

"  Barabant,  I  want  to  be  a  wife  !  " 

The  moments  that  he  held  her  in  stupefaction 
were  moments  of  agony  to  her.  He  put  her 
from  him,  looking  in  amazement  at  the  tear- 
stained  face. 

"  Idiot  that  I  am  !  "  he  cried  suddenly.  "  That 
is  what  has  been  tormenting  you  !  " 

Waiting  only  for  the  accent  of  his  voice,  she 
sprang  back,  trembling,  not  daring  to  look  at 
him. 

"  Then  you  will  ?  "  she  cried,  stretching  out 
her  hands  to  him.  "  Then  you  will  *?  " 

"  Of  course  ! " 

Into  his  arms  she  threw  herself,  sobbing  with 
the  poignant  ecstasy  of  joy,  while  he  listened, 
still  uncomprehending. 

"  That  means  so  much  to  you  *?  "  he  said.  "But 
I  always  considered  you  as  my  wife." 

378 


THE   LAST  ON   THE   LIST 

Even  in  her  emotion  his  simplicity  drew  from 
her  a  smile. 

"  Since  when  have  you  had  this  idea  ?  " 

"  From  the  beginning." 

"  True  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"From—" 

"From  the  afternoon  of  the  loth  of  August; 
but  I  did  not  realize  it  then." 

The  correction  summed  up  all  her  history. 

All  at  once  Barabant,  rousing  himself  from  his 
amazement,  said : 

"  But  how  are  we  to  be  married  ?  " 

"  Do  you  remember  the  abbe  next  to  us  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  will  ask  him." 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  do  it  ?  "  he  said  doubt- 
fully. 

"  I  know  how  to  convince  him." 

He  kissed  her  and  drew  her  away  from  him. 

"  Shall  I  go "?  "  she  said.     "  Now  ?  " 

"Fly!" 

She  was  away  a  long  time.  When  she  reappeared 
with  the  priest  she  said  timidly: 

"  I  have  taken  very  long.  I  wanted  to  con- 
fess. It  did  me  good.  Does  that  annoy  you  ?  " 

"No,"  he  said  smilingly;  and  looking  at  the 

379 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

face  of  her  companion,  he  said  to  himself:  "  She 
has  made  him  cry." 

They  joined  hands,  kneeling  before  the  black- 
robed  figure  in  the  warm  room,  pervaded  with 
the  sunlight  that  the  bars  on  the  window  could 
not  arrest.  He  made  them  man  and  wife,  and 
blessed  them,  and,  bending,  put  out  his  hands  to 
raise  the  woman.  But  almost  immediately,  with 
a  smile  that  was  of  the  compassionate  master,  he 
ceased  his  attempts  and  stole  from  the  room. 

"  Tell  me  one  thing,"  Barabant  asked. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Why  did  you  not  ask  before  ?  " 

"  I  could  not  ask.  Now  it  makes  no  differ- 
ence." 

"But  why?" 

Again  and  again,  through  their  solitary  after- 
noon, as  they  waited,  now  silent,  now  questioning 
each  other,  he  returned  to  his  query  without  suc- 
cess. At  five  o'clock,  perceiving  in  her  body  an 
involuntary  shudder,  he  said: 

"  You  're  not  afraid  of  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  No.  So  many  others  have  gone."  She  had 
a  superstitious  idea  of  God  and  another  world, 
confused,  simple,  and  sufficient  Thinking  of 
Javogues,  she  added :  "  The  abbe  said  I  should 
be  saved.  Do  you  believe  it  ?  " 
380 


THE   LAST   ON   THE   LIST 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  respecting  her  faith.  '*  I 
shall  not  fear,  either." 

"  I  know,"  she  answered  dreamily. 

"She  does  not  think  of  me,"  he  thought. 
Then  wishing  to  talk  of  himself,  he  said : 

"  It  is  life  that  I  regret.  I  ought  to  have  done 
so  much." 

"  I  wanted  to  give  you  that,"  she  said  at  last, 
feeling  in  the  air  the  approach  of  the  last  hour. 
"  I  wanted  to  die  for  you.  That  was  my  dream. 
You  would  have  revered  my  memory  and  I 
should  have  been  happy." 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  "  he  said,  frowning. 
"  And  what  do  you  mean  *?  " 

'*  I  am  only  an  ignorant  girl,"  she  said.  **  I 
could  not  long  have  been  your  companion." 

"You  are  wrong,"  he  cried  vehemently,  re- 
peating it  several  times,  "and  you  do  me  an 
injustice." 

She  yielded,  and  asked  the  question  that  had 
been  on  her  lips  a  dozen  times : 

"Truly,  Eugene,  you  would  have  married 
me?" 

"  Can  you  doubt  it,  Nicole  ?  " 

"You  are  good,  very  good."  She  smiled, 
satisfied  to  bear  this  promise  away  with  her,  but 
in  her  heart  she  was  not  quite  convinced.  "  You 
have  been  very  kind." 

381 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

He  was  glad  at  such  a  moment  to  own  a  good 
action. 

"Do  you  know,  it  's  good  to  have  you,"  he 
said  slowly,  a  moment  awed  by  the  thought  of 
the  morrow.  "  I  do  not  fear,  but  I  am  glad  you 
are  to  be  with  me." 

"  Yes,  I  know." 

All  at  once  she  sprang  up,  trembling  from  head 
to  foot,  crying : 

"  Do  you  hear  ?  " 

"The  belli" 

"  It  is  six." 

"  What !  you  are  trembling  ?  " 

"Kiss  me." 

She  threw  herself  into  his  arms,  clutching  him 
to  her,  while  he,  in  bewilderment,  said : 

"  But  I  don't  understand." 

"  Hold  me,  Eugene,  hold  me ! "  she  cried. 
"  Don't  let  me  go ! " 

She  kissed  him,  holding  his  head  in  her  hands, 
and  the  kiss  awakened  in  him  the  memory  of 
that  first  meeting  of  their  lips,  in  the  dark  stair- 
way, under  the  weak  torch.  He  placed  his  arm 
about  her  waist,  drawing  her  gently  down  the 
corridor,  and  believing  that  her  courage  at  the 
last  had  failed  her,  he  whispered  as  they  went : 

"  Do  not  fear,  little  one.  I  am  with  you.  I  '11 
have  courage  for  us  both." 

382 


THE   LAST   ON   THE   LIST 

The  prisoners  assembled  in  the  great  hall,  list- 
less and  dragging  their  steps,  searching  among 
themselves  with  anxious  or  mechanical  curiosity, 
seeking  to  divine  the  chosen.  Soon  from  the 
courtyard  rumbled  the  wheels  of  the  arriving  cart. 

Presently,  faint  at  first,  down  the  distant  cor- 
ridor fell  the  step  of  the  turnkey,  approaching 
slowly,  as  though  to  prolong  the  cruel  suspense. 
With  a  crash  the  gates  were  flung  open,  and, 
flanked  by  two  mastiffs,  holding  in  his  hand  the 
fatal  roll,  the  jailer  suddenly  confronted  every 
eye.  Without  pause,  the  monotonous,  singing 
voice  opened  the  long,  dreary  preamble,  finished 
it,  and,  rising  to  a  shout,  began  the  list : 

"  The  Citoyenne  Nicole  Barabant !  " 

A  sigh  of  relief  escaped  the  girl,  and  her  head 
fell  on  the  shoulder  of  Barabant ;  but  her  ears, 
deaf  to  the  cries  of  sorrow,  to  the  lamentations  of 
mothers  and  wives,  to  the  screams  of  astonish- 
ment and  despair  that  woke  the  silent  hall,  fol- 
lowed anxiously  the  roll,  counting : 

"  Seven  —  eight  —  nine  ! " 

At  the  tenth  she  relaxed,  and  her  arms  wound 
about  the  neck  of  Barabant  in  the  last  long  em- 
brace, violent  with  the  pang  of  parting.  Sud- 
denly, with  a  cry  of  despair,  she  tore  herself  from 
him, — an  eleventh  name  was  being  read : 

"  The  Citoyen  Eugene  — " 

383 


IN   THE  NAME  OF  LIBERTY 

Something  extraordinary  had  happened;  the 
jailer  had  stopped  in  indecision.  Nicole,  in  the 
agony  of  her  mind,  saw  but  one  face — the  mock- 
ing face  of  Cramoisin — against  an  opposite  pillar. 

"  The  Citoyen  Eugene  Franz  Cramoisin  ! " 

The  sneer  dropped  out;  the  face  grew  livid. 
On  all  sides  astounded  cries  went  up : 

"  Cramoisin  ?  " 

"  Impossible ! " 

"  Cramoisin  arrested ! " 

Nicole,  understanding  nothing  but  that  Bara- 
bant  was  saved,  hearing  only  Barabant's  voice 
demanding  like  a  madman  to  be  taken,  fell  into 
his  arms,  crying : 

"  No,  no,  it  is  not  a  mistake !  It  is  I  who  have 
saved  you.  Barabant !  Barabant !  It  is  as  I 
wanted  it!  Remember  me,  Barabant!  Don't 
forget  me !  The  abbe  will  tell  you  all.  Bara- 
bant —  Barabant ! " 

They  tore  her  from  his  arms  and  swept  her 
away,  still  stretching  out  the  unavailing  fingers, 
still  calling  : 

"  Barabant !     Barabant ! " 

The  weeping  and  the  wailing  died  behind  the 
clashing  gates.  A  woman,  catching  her  in  her 
arms,  supported  her  down  the  unending  corridor, 
whispering : 

"  Lean  on  me.     I  have  no  one." 

384 


THE   LAST   ON   THE   LIST 

They  entered  the  courtyard  and  climbed  into 
the  chariot,  where  a  few  prisoners  sadly  and  indif- 
ferently watched  their  arrival.  There  presently 
two  turnkeys,  laughing  boisterously,  bore  out  and 
dumped  beside  them  the  body  of  Cramoisin,  who 
had  fainted. 


38* 


XV 

THE    FALL    OF    THE    TERROR 

ON  the  Qth  of  Thermidor  Dossonville,  who 
had  long  foreseen  the  inevitable  conflict 
of  Robespierre  and  the  Convention,  resolved 
on  another  rapid  shift,  and,  appearing  in  the  Rue 
Maugout,  denounced  Robespierre  and  the  Jaco- 
bins in  such  unmeasured  terms  that  he  not  only 
sent  his  listeners  galloping  off  to  denounce  him, 
but  to  his  amazement  on  turning  about,  found 
himself  deserted  even  by  Sans-Chagrin  and  Le 
Corbeau. 

According  to  his  custom,  he  visited  the  Con- 
ciergerie  to  inspect  the  prisoners.  Already  in 
the  streets  was  the  awakening  of  the  great  con- 
flict. In  the  crowds  the  Jacobins  alone  raised 
their  voices  in  furious  boasting ;  but  silence  pre- 
dominated, and  the  silence  told  of  anger  and 
condemnation. 

In  the  first  division  he  found  no  familiar  face 
among  the  twenty-odd  prisoners  until,  on  the 
point  of  turning  away,  he  discovered  the  abject 
386 


THE   FALL   OF  THE   TERROR 

form  of  Cramoisin.     The  downfall  of  the  Ter- 
rorists appeared  to  him  as  a  favorable  presage. 

He  passed  to  the  second  division;  there  the 
crowd  was  thicker  and  more  turbulent.  Over  the 
uneven  field  of  bobbing  heads  he  saw  the  judges 
on  the  bench,  the  listless  jury,  joking  among 
themselves,  and  the  abhorrent  figure  of  Fouquier; 
while  to  the  right,  packed  together  on  the  benches, 
were  the  score  of  prisoners  who  waited,  without 
hope,  the  mockery  of  a  trial. 

Dossonville,  taking  his  place  in  the  stream  of 
those  who  constantly  pressed  to  the  front  seek- 
ing the  face  of  relative  or  friend,  yielded  good- 
humoredly  the  right  of  way  to  those  who  sought 
in  sorrow.  After  some  delay  he  reached  the 
front  rank.  There  a  cry  was  torn  from  him : 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu  ! " 

At  the  first  glance  he  had  seen  Nicole.  Drawn 
by  some  subtle  intelligence,  she  raised  her  eyes 
and  saw  him. 

"  What  a  fatality ! "  he  cried  to  himself.  "  She 
herself  has  done  this ! " 

A  sudden  anger  filled  him,  of  revolt  and  re- 
sentment against  the  stubborn  sacrifice  of  this 
frail  girl  who  had  defeated  him  at  the  very 
last.  His  glance  of  reproach  she  met  with  one 
of  content,  which  said :  "  You  see,  it  is  as  I 
said." 

387 


IN   THE   NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

She  smiled  seriously,  a  little  sadly,  as  one  who, 
though  not  regretting  the  decision,  had  not  fore- 
seen the  cost. 

A  hand  swept  him  back  as  others  pressed  fer- 
vently forward.  He  heard  a  mother's  voice  cry 
at  his  side : 

"  They  have  taken  my  child,  my  son." 

His  glance  following  dumbly  the  outstretched 
hands,  he  beheld  at  the  side  of  Nicole  the  figure 
of  a  boy,  who  searched  the  crowd  with  fright- 
ened face.  The  buzz  of  voices  rose  about,  the 
mother's  mingling  with  the  crowd. 

"  But  it 's  a  mistake.     He  's  sixteen." 

"  Then  don't  worry,  they  can't  touch  him !  " 

"  Aye,  he  's  safe  ! " 

"  They  arrested  him  for  his  brother,  who  's 
twenty-six." 

"  Calm  yourself,  la  petite  mere,  any  one  can 
see  he  's  a  boy." 

"  They  '11  release  him  ?  " 

"  Of  course  —  he  's  under  age." 

"  Aye,  any  one  can  see  that." 

Dossonville  but  half  heard  them.  He  was 
crushed  by  the  cruel  turn  of  fate  that  had  claimed 
her  at  the  last,  when  the  morrow  would  mean 
life  and  security.  His  eyes,  yet  refusing  to  be- 
lieve, had  never  left  Nicole's  face.  She  was  pale  ; 
but  the  pallor  was  of  serenity,  and  gave  to  her 


THE  FALL  OF   THE  TERROR 

person  a  certain  distinction  that  seemed  to  raise 
her  above  her  class.  From  time  to  time  a  certain 
pensiveness,  whether  of  melancholy  or  of  regret, 
gathered  in  her  eyes.  She  was  looking  with 
womanly  revolt  below  her,  where,  on  a  litter,  ex- 
posed to  all  eyes,  lay  the  unconscious  form  of 
a  woman.  The  audience,  rebelling  against  such 
cruelty,  began  to  murmur : 

"  Remove  her ! " 

"  Take  her  out ! " 

"  Send  her  to  the  hospital ! " 

The  cry  was  taken  up,  passing  from  a  murmur 
in  the  front  ranks  to  volume  and  distinctness  as 
it  rolled  back.  The  protest  became  so  insistent 
that  several  of  the  jury  began  to  cast  anxious 
glances  at  the  audience,  and  a  judge  motioned  to 
Fouquier.  There  was  an  expectant  lull;  but 
Fouquier  cried,  with  a  sneer : 

"  She  '11  revive.     Call  the  roll ! " 

The  storm  that  had  subsided  in  anticipation 
burst  forth  anew. 

"No!    No!" 

"Remove  her!" 

"Justice!" 

"  Outrage ! " 

Near  Dossonville  a  blacksmith,  with  leather 
apron,  was  shouting : 

"  To  the  hospital ! " 

389 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

A  red-haired  man  in  a  baker's  cap,  with 
clenched  fists,  added  : 

"Tyrant!" 

Fresh  arrivals,  bringing  tidings  of  uprisings 
throughout  the  city,  gave  new  courage  to  the 
protests.  Fouquier,  impressed  at  last  by  the  out- 
bursts, rose  sullenly  and  commanded : 

"  Bear  the  woman  to  the  witness-room,  but  the 
instant  she  revives  bring  her  back." 

The  roll-call  was  begun  —  the  simple  attesta- 
tion of  individuality  that  had  replaced  the  pleas 
of  advocates  and  the  taking  of  testimony.  En- 
couraged by  its  first  success,  the  audience  began 
to  murmur: 

"  They  say  the  Quartier  St.  Antoine  is  in  revolt 
against  Robespierre." 

"The  Convention  will  surely  declare  him  under 
arrest." 

"If  he  falls,  the  executions  will  stop." 

"  I  say  the  trial  ought  to  stop  until  we  see." 

"Yes,  postpone  the  trial." 

"What!  There  are  traitors,  then,  in  the 
room ! "  cried  Fouquier,  who,  the  better  to  see, 
had  mounted  a  step.  Before  his  threatening 
glance  the  movement  of  clemency  died  away. 
Again  was  heard  the  monotonous  voice  of  the 
clerk  intoning  the  roll  and  the  listless  responses  of 
the  accused.  In  the  stand  one  of  the  jury  im- 

390 


THE  FALL  OF   THE  TERROR 

patiently  pulled  out  a  watch,  another  stifled  a 
yawn. 

All  at  once  there  was  a  craning  of  heads.  An 
interruption  had  come ;  the  voice  of  the  young 
boy  was  protesting : 

"  Citoyen,  the  accusation  is  for  my  brother.  I 
am  not  twenty-six.  I  have  done  nothing  against 
the  Republic.  Citoyen,  I  am  sixteen.  I  have  my 
papers  to  prove  it." 

A  greffier  nodded  his  head  in  confirmation, 
and  extended  a  handful  of  papers  toward  the 
judge,  saying : 

"  Citoyen,  he  speaks  the  truth." 

Murmurs  ran  through  the  crowd : 

"  It 's  a  mistake ! " 

"He  's  a  child!" 

"  Release  him ! " 

On  the  judges'  bench  the  figure  of  Dumas 
arose. 

"  And  if  you  are  only  sixteen,"  he  cried  bru- 
tally, "in  the  matter  of  crime  you  are  fully 
eighty."  Then,  with  a  furious  gesture,  he  added: 
"  Pass  on,  and  make  haste  ! " 

The  murmur  of  revolt  from  the  audience 
was  overwhelmed  in  a  sudden  roar  of  astonish- 
ment. Dumas  had  been  arrested !  The  coun- 
ter-revolution had  come!  Those  who  had  not 
seen  the  arrest  cried : 

391 


IN   THE   NAME   OF  LIBERTY 

"  But  what  has  happened  ?  " 

"Tell  us!     Tell  us!" 

Others  answered: 

"  Dumas ! " 

"  Arrested ! " 

"  The  counter-revolution  has  come  ! " 

A  voice  cried : 

"  The  quartiers  are  in  arms ! " 

"  True  2  " 

"The  tocsin  is  ringing!" 

"  They  '11  make  an  end  of  Robespierre  ?  " 

"  Impossible ! " 

"  It 's  true !    Have  n't  they  arrested  Dumas  ?  " 

"  Suspend  the  trial ! " 

"  Mercy !     Clemency ! " 

All  eyes  turned  to  Fouquier,  who  answered 
contemptuously  and  stubbornly : 

"  Justice  must  take  its  course  ! " 

At  Dossonville's  side  the  blacksmith,  with  the 
sudden  frenzy  of  prophecy,  cried : 

"  Fouquier,  beware  !     The  guillotine  is  wait- 
ing for  you ! " 

While  with  brawny  shoulders  he  wriggled  free 
of  the  willing  crowd,  Dossonville  looked  for  the 
hundredth  time  at  Nicole.  She  had  not  aban- 
doned her  calm ;  only  a  slight  frown  told  of  the 
havoc  the  sudden  opening  and  closing  of  the  gates 
of  hope  played  in  her  soul. 
392 


THE  FALL   OF   THE   TERROR 

Another  judge  replaced  Dumas.  The  roll-call 
was  hurried  on.  Twice  Fouquier  sent  a  physician 
to  report  the  condition  of  the  woman  in  the  wit- 
ness-room. A  flutter  of  the  eyelids  would  have 
meant  death.  She  remained  in  a  stupor,  and  was 
at  last  sent  to  the  hospital.  The  roll-call  ended. 
The  jury,  after  the  farce  of  declaring  that  they 
had  heard  sufficient  evidence,  retired  to  deliberate 
upon  the  guilt  of  the  twenty-six.  They  returned 
shortly.  It  was  late,  and  many  suffered  from  the 
postponement  of  the  luncheon-hour.  One  man 
acquitted  —  Aviot  Turot,  laborer. 

A  shudder  passed  through  the  body  of  Dosson- 
ville,  and  a  groan  escaped  his  lips.  The  fatal, 
inevitable  word  "Guilty"  overwhelmed  him. 
Nicole  heard  it  with  a  smile  —  sad,  yet  satisfied. 

Another  stir,  and  a  buzz  of  comments  rose  as 
the  executioner  entered  and  began  to  converse 
with  Fouquier.  Those  in  front,  who  could  hear, 
called  back : 

"  Sanson  is  remonstrating." 

"  Sanson  wants  the  execution  deferred." 

"  He  says  the  city  is  rising." 

A  last  time  Fouquier  refused  to  budge,  and, 
crossing  his  arms,  reiterated  bluntly,  to  be  heard 
by  all : 

"  No,  no !  I  say  no !  Justice  must  take  its 
course." 

393 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

The  condemned,  who  had  paused  as  they  had 
risen  trembling  with  hope,  filed  out,  while  the 
crowd  in  the  court-room  surged  forth  to  meet  the 
tumbrels. 

Dossonville,  using  his  privilege  of  agent  de 
surete,  entered  the  prison,  seeking  Nicole  in  the 
crowd  of  prisoners  massed  in  the  outer  hall; 
threading  through  anxious  groups,  who  whis- 
pered : 

"  You  saw  Dumas  arrested  ?  " 

"They  say  there  is  a  revolt  against  Robes- 
pierre." 

"  The  people  seemed  to  sympathize  with  us." 

Others,  scorning  to  hang  their  hopes  on  des- 
perate chances,  waited  stoically  or  reverently  the 
summons  to  the  tumbrels.  A  young  aristocrat 
was  whistling  defiantly : 

"  Oh,  Richard,  oh,  mon  roi, 
L'univers  t'abandonne  !" 

In  another  group,  guarding  their  enmity  to  the 
end,  two  brothers  of  the  people  retorted  with  the 
"  Marseillaise." 

Two  women  near  Dossonville  were  chatting 
gaily : 

"  I  am  so  pale  those  cursed  revolutionists  will 
think  that  I  am  afraid." 

"  You  must  not  give  them  that  satisfaction." 

394 


THE   FALL   OF   THE   TERROR 

"  I  do  seem  pale,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Ah,  then  I  must  rouge !  " 

Dossonville  examined  the  figure  of  the  grace- 
ful woman,  who  was  gaily  daubing  her  cheeks, 

and  recognized  the  famous  Duchess  of  M . 

At  this  moment,  in  the  obscurity  of  the  arches, 
he  discovered  at  last  the  blue  dress  and  golden 
hair  of  Nicole. 

"  Oh,  it  is  you,"  she  cried  joyfully.  "  I  had 
hoped  you  could  see  me." 

"Nicole,"  he  said  bitterly,  "this  is  your 
doing." 

Her  manner  changed ;  she  grew  serious. 

"  My  friend,"  she  said,  "  I  have  but  done  what 
I  wished.  I  am  happy."  She  held  up  her  finger 
with  Barabant's  ring  on  it.  "  You  see,  I  am  his 
wife,  and  I  have  saved  him." 

The  outward  movement  toward  the  tumbrels 
had  begun.  From  the  doorway  the  guards  re- 
peated : 

"  Hurry  up,  there ;  hurry  up,  you  cursed  aris- 
tocrats ! " 

Dossonville  kissed  her  with  more  feeling  than 
he  had  believed  possible,  and  said,  through  the 
tears  that  clouded  his  eyes,  "  I  would  have  saved 
you." 

"  Do  not  grieve,"  she  said,  touched  by  his  sor- 

395 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

row.  She  took  her  scarf  and  put  it  into  his 
hand,  saying :  "  Give  it  to  him.  Tell  him  that  I 
am  happy  —  that  it  is  best  so.  Adieu  ! " 

Then,  as  though  fearing  to  lose  her  self-control, 
she  pressed  his  hand  and  hurried  away. 

Dossonville,  passing  out  by  a  side  entrance, 
hastened  to  meet  the  slow  procession  across  the 
river.  The  city  was  in  uproar;  over  the  roofs 
the  bells  were  crying  the  civil  strife,  while  every 
street  seemed  to  give  forth  the  thunder  of  drums. 
Masses  of  volunteers,  without  formation  or  leader, 
swept  the  boulevards,  while  the  air  was  charged 
with  the  conflict  of  shouts : 

"  Vive  la  Commune ! " 

"  A  bas  les  Jacobins ! " 

"  Vive  Robespierre ! " 

"  Robespierre  a  la  Guillotine ! " 

The  chariots  crossed  from  the  gates  of  the 
Conciergerie,  acclaimed  by  the  hoots  and  jeers 
of  the  daily  hordes  of  mad  women  who  gathered 
to  shriek  their  foul  abuse  and  frantic  revilings. 
But  as  the  tumbrels  passed  the  river  the  insults 
ceased,  replaced  by  murmurs  of  sympathy. 

In  the  third  chariot  Dossonville  found  Nicole. 
The  duchess,  with  her  brilliant  cheeks,  was  on 
the  same  bench,  and  between  the  two  women 
the  boy,  his  hand  in  Nicole's. 

From  the  direction  of  the  Convention  came 

396 


THE   FALL   OF   THE   TERROR 

wild  rumors  of  Robespierre's  defeat.  The  crowd, 
increasing,  began  to  cry : 

"  Enough  blood  ! " 

"  No  more  blood  ! " 

"  Pity  on  the  condemned ! " 

Dossonville,  hardly  daring  to  hope,  noticed  that 
Sanson  examined  the  crowd  anxiously — a  not  un- 
friendly glance.  The  demonstration  continued, 
growing  bolder,  a  hundred  voices  insisting : 

"  Enough  blood  ! " 

"  No  more  victims ! " 

"  Stop  the  massacre ! " 

Among  the  prisoners  several,  unable  to  resist 
the  sudden  leap  of  hope  to  their  eyes,  stretched 
out  their  hands,  crying : 

"  We  are  innocent !  " 

In  the  first  chariot  Cramoisin,  in  a  frenzy,  was 
shouting : 

"  Citoyens,  do  not  mistake  me.  I  am  a  re- 
publican. Vive  la  Republique !  Save  me,  at 
least!" 

Nicole  was  speaking  to  the  boy ;  for  the  new 
vision  of  life  had  made  him  tremble.  Amid 
the  leaping  floods  of  humanity  she  remained 
calm,  a  certain  maternal  sweetness  and  repose 
enveloping  her  as  she  sought  to  fortify  the  reso- 
lution of  her  companion.  To  Dossonville, 
through  the  rising  storm  of  sound  and  swaying 

397 


IN   THE  NAME  OF   LIBERTY 

of  bodies,  a  lull  of  peace  seemed  to  surround  her 
and  to  remove  her  from  the  frenzy. 

Again  the  revolt  rose  in  him  that  she  should 
die  thus.  Perceiving  all  at  once  that  the  crowd 
had  pressed  about  the  carts  until  their  progress 
was  impeded,  he  flung  himself  into  the  swirl, 
exhorting  and  encouraging.  The  cries  redoubled, 
becoming  more  threatening : 

"  Save  them ! " 

"  Enough  butchery ! " 

"  On,  comrades !     Save  them ! " 

"  Aye,  deliver  them ! " 

"  Stop  the  chariots ! " 

"Unhitch  the  horses!     Unhitch  the  horses!" 

At  this  last,  the  cry  of  Dossonville,  the  multi- 
tude, with  a  shriek  of  triumph,  surged  up  against 
the  tumbrels.  A  hundred  hands  checked  the 
horses,  reaching  out  for  the  buckles  of  the  harness, 
while  a  dozen  voices  cried : 

"  Courage !     We  '11  release  you ! " 

Already  the  prisoners  exclaimed  joyfully,  al- 
ready Dossonville  stretched  out  his  arms  to 
Nicole,  when  a  cry  of  fear  and  despair  burst  from 
the  rescuers,  voiced  in  the  dreaded  name : 

"  Henriot !     Henriot ! " 

Up  the  street,  at  the  head  of  his  dragoons, 
sabres  flashing  in  the  air,  break-a-neck  came  the 
wild  figure  of  the  Jacobin. 

398 


THE   FALL   OF   THE   TERROR 

The  surge  of  the  fleeing  crowd  held  Dosson- 
ville  a  moment  against  the  tumbrel,  where  he 
heard  through  the  confusion  a  cry  of  despair  from 
the  boy,  "  I  could  have  borne  anything  but  hope!  " 
Then,  as  Dossonville  was  swept  away,  he  saw  the 
child's  head  fall  upon  the  shoulder  of  Nicole. 
The  next  moment  he  was  buffeted  and  hurled 
aside;  then  a  horse  struck  him  and  flung  him  to 
the  ground,  where  a  dozen  feet  trampled  him. 
Stunned,  covered  with  dirt,  and  bleeding,  he 
stumbled  to  his  feet.  The  tumbrels,  surrounded 
by  cavalry,  were  disappearing  in  the  distance, 
moving  swiftly.  He  ran  after  them,  shaking  his 
helpless  fist,  and  as  he  turned  the  corner,  a  groan 
burst  from  him.  Over  the  heads  of  the  people 
the  twin  shafts  of  the  guillotine  sprang  into  view. 

Numb  and  half  unconscious,  seeing  only,  in  the 
third  cart,  the  distant  blot  of  blue,  he  limped  on, 
following  as  best  he  could  into  the  square.  He 
fought  his  way  to  the  front,  beside  the  cordon  of 
naked  swords  that  girdled  the  scaffold,  repeating 
to  himself  a  hundred  times : 

"  I  must  not  stay !     I  will  not  stay ! " 

But  still  the  pitiful  hope  of  a  deliverance  held 
him  there,  to  snatch  at  every  message  of  the  air 
that  floated  over  the  distracted  city.  One  after 
another  the  condemned  mounted  the  steps  and 
passed  across  the  stage  like  phantoms,  hurried  on 

399 


IN   THE  NAME   OF   LIBERTY 

by  the  remorseless  Jacobin,  while  those  about 
him  cried : 

"  Oh,  for  two  hours  —  for  one  !  " 
"Cursed  Henriot,  we  could  have  saved  them  !" 
"  Why  does  the  Convention  delay  *?  " 
"  Ah,  the  monster !     He  is  afraid  to  lose  a 
single  one ! " 

She  came  at  last,  a  patch  of  blue,  a  white  face 
against  the  stretch  of  heads.  She  saw  him  not  at 
all,  nor  any  one.  The  maternal  instinct  of  the 
woman  that  had  raised  her  above  her  companions 
on  the  journey  was  gone,  and  with  it  all  con- 
sciousness of  the  world  and  the  sorrows  and  the 
responsibilities  which  had  so  transformed  her. 
Only  once  did  she  notice  her  surroundings,  when 
the  bourreau,  with  impatient  hand,  bared  her 
throat.  Then  for  a  moment  her  hands  went 
instinctively  to  cover  herself  from  the  multitude. 
Almost  immediately  her  face  became  grave  and 
reverent.  The  assistants  advanced  to  take  her  to 
the  guillotine.  Then  with  a  rapid  motion  she 
made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  raising  her  eyes  to  the 
deep  sky,  as  though  already  she  saw  beyond  the 
grave, —  the  timid  question  of  a  child  who  hesi- 
tates in  wonder  before  the  incomprehensible. 

With  a  sob,  Dossonville  turned,  shrinking  from 
the  sight  of  the  mutilating  knife,  and  waited  with 
averted  face. 

400 


THE   FALL   OF   THE   TERROR 

There  was  a  vast  moment,  then  a  shock  of 
steel,  and  a  woman  who  had  seen  his  tears  whis- 
pered : 

"  It  is  over ! " 

Then,  fleeing  from  the  inexorable  machine,  he 
plunged,  weeping,  through  the  crowd,  stumbling 
aimlessly  on  into  the  frantic  city,  where,  too  late, 
every  street  was  echoing  to  the  fear-releasing 
shrieks  of  rejoicing : 

"  Robespierre  is  fallen !  " 

"  The  Terror  is  ended ! " 


401 


EPILOGUE 

A*J  hour  later  Dossonville  was  arrested,  thanks 
to  his  political  somersault,  which  had 
brought  him  twenty  denunciations  before  the 
Committee  of  Safety  as  having  always  spoken  ill 
of  the  Jacobins  and  defamed  the  character  of 
Robespierre.  The  accusation  of  a  day  served  to 
cleanse  the  record  of  months. 

Imprisoned  for  a  few  months  at  the  Maison 
Talaru,  he  gained  the  frontier  at  a  favorable 
moment  and  embarked  for  South  America. 
Then  for  ten  years,  at  sea  or  in  the  colonies,  he 
was  buffeted  from  continent  to  continent,  always 
embroiled,  always  running  on  the  lead  of  adven- 
ture, which  he  called  his  one  bad  habit. 

When  he  again  saw  Paris,  the  Empire  was  at 
its  crest.  The  city  he  had  left  a  wilderness  had 
flowered  with  the  riotous  luxuriance  of  the  tropics. 
The  Tuileries  Gardens  were  again  noisy  with  the 
laughter  of  promenaders,  thronging  to  a  review 
in  the  Place  du  Carrousel.  Wherever  he  went 
402 


EPILOGUE 

his  eye  caught  the  flash  of  martial  splendor  and 
the  sheen  of  sabers. 

A  little  sadly  he  spent  the  days  in  the  strange 
Babylon,  seeking  some  trace  of  the  great  Revo- 
lution that  once  had  rolled  through  the  city,  of  the 
thundering  mobs,  the  fervid  cafes,  the  tricoteuses, 
and  the  creak  of  the  rolling  tumbrels. 

The  Cabaret  of  the  Pretre  Pendu,its  gibbet  ban- 
ished, had  become  the  Cabaret  of  a  Hundred  and 
One  Victories.  The  greeting  of  "citoyen"  no 
longer  resounded  in  the  street.  Of  all  the  famil- 
iar faces  in  the  Rue  Maugout,  not  one  confronted 
him.  La  Mere  Corniche  had  been  replaced  by 
another  concierge,  bent  and  wrinkled  after  the 
manner  of  concierges,  as  though  her  life  had  been 
passed  at  her  post. 

Among  the  counts  and  barons,  marshals  and 
princes,  of  the  Empire,  galloping  in  glory,  shouting 
frantically" Vive  PEmpereur!"Dossonville  recog- 
nized with  bewilderment  figures  of  Jacobins  and 
Girondins,  once  worshipers  of  the  sacred  Republic. 
He  sought  out  the  Maison  Talaru ;  lackeys  were 
lounging  before  the  door  and  a  stream  of  car- 
riages rolling  through  the  restored  porte-cochere. 
Once,  hearing  the  rumor  of  a  great  execution  for 
the  afternoon,  with  a  revival  of  interest  he  asked 
a  passer-by : 

"  And  the  executioner,  what  do  you  call  him?" 

403 


EPILOGUE 

"Sanson." 

"  Charles  Sanson  ?  " 

"  His  son." 

Recalling  the  prophecy  of  the  father,  indiffer- 
ent servitor  to  republic  or  kingdom,  he  returned 
pensively  to  the  boulevards,  where,  to  rid  himself 
of  black  memories,  he  selected  among  the  pomp 
and  the  glitter  a  fashionable  cafe,  and  installed 
himself. 

Presently,  reviewing  idly  the  gorgeous  clien- 
tele, his  eye  rested  on  a  knot  of  generals.  The 
figure  of  the  speaker  caught  his  memory  by  a 
certain  trick  of  exuberant  gesture  that  recalled 
a  comrade  of  other  days.  Calling  a  waiter,  he 
demanded : 

"  That  man  over  there,  decorated  with  medals 
and  laughing,  in  that  cluster  of  fighters,  do  you 
see  him  *?  " 

"  The  Baron  de  Ricordo  —  yes,  sir." 

"  What  's  his  name  <?  " 

"  The  Baron  de  Ricordo ;  a  great  man  in  the 
Senate,  sir." 

"Ah,  I  thought  he  resembled  some  one  else. 
Thanks." 

Almost  immediately,  dissatisfied,  he  recalled 
him. 

"  And  his  family  name  ?     Find  that  out." 
"Monsieur,  he   is  a  Barabant,  of  the  well- 
404 


EPILOGUE 

known  Barabants  of  the  Midi.  The  family  is 
honorable  and  old.  I — " 

"  Never  mind.  Ah,  one  thing  more.  Is  he 
married  *?  Tell  me  that." 

"  Monsieur,  he  marries  this  month, —  a  great 
marriage." 

"  Enough.     That 's  sufficient." 

At  this  moment  the  party  pushed  back  their 
chairs  and  came  straggling  toward  him. 

"  When  you  're  young  all  folly  's  possible," 
said  the  voice  of  Barabant  at  his  elbow. 

"  It 's  a  wonder,  I  say,  that  we  survive  to  mid- 
dle age." 

"  Dame,  yes ! "  replied  the  baron.  "  Will  you 
believe  it  of  me — at  twenty-five  I  wept  because 
I  could  not  die  for  an  idea ! " 

Dossonville,  who  was  on  the  point  of  rising, 
fell  back  and  lowered  his  head.  The  resplendent 
group  swaggered  down  to  the  sidewalk,  where 
presently  a  magnificent  equipage  rolled  up,  a 
lady  extended  her  hand  to  the  Baron  de  Ricordo, 
who,  nodding  to  his  comrades,  sprang  into  the 
carriage  and  drove  off. 

Pushing  back  the  untasted  glass,  Dossonville 
rang  for  his  bill. 

"  Monsieur  does  n't  take  his  drink,"  the  ga^on 
objected. 

Dossonville,  looking  down,  saw  that  it  was  true. 
405 


EPILOGUE 

"  There  is  something  the  matter,  monsieur  ?  " 

"  Exactly." 

"  Monsieur  complains  —  " 

"  Ah,  I  have  looked  at  the  bottom  of  the  glass, 
my  friend,"  he  answered ;  but  his  glance  was  in 
the  street.  "  When  one  drinks  one  should  never 
do  that." 

Leaving  the  perplexed  gar9on  to  turn  over  his 
words,  he  sauntered  among  the  thronged  tables, 
and  joining  the  slow  procession  of  the  prome- 
naders,  was  swept  gradually  away. 


406 


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